Breathing in the Snowflakes
by GreatDarkNoodleKing
Summary: An addict. that's all he ever was. Was that he would ever be? He wanted people out, but he needed someone in. "Please... Help me... I don't wanna be this way anymore..." And as he was held by the arms that had born his pain just the same, he heard the voice of his rescuer, "I'm here..." RATED T FOR DRUG USAGE AND SENSITIVE MATERIAL. (Mild BlackIce) Alternate Universe- AU
1. Chapter 1

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes**_

A loud thudding noise was ringing in Jack Frost's tired ears. It was muffled, but the pounding in the back of his skull was clear enough. It hurt… Who was at his door at this hour…? Wait… Jack had no idea what time it was.

Sitting up, he glanced with shivering arms at his digital clock. It was two thirty seven… In the afternoon… How long had he been out…?

Grumbling and shoving a few bags under his blankets just to be safe, Jack got to his shaky feet and stumbled to the door of his apartment that he could barely afford.

Shivering in spite of the warm air, he pulled the door back and was greeted by a blinding bright light and a silhouette that looked black at first glance. Shielding his red, puffy eyes, Jack smiled weakly at a familiar face.

"Tia!" he greeted with a smile. His taller, female friend smiled right back before giving him a quick hug.

The green haired girl then pouted at Jack and asked, "Jackson, Frost, do you have any idea how many times I tried to call you?" With her fists on her hips, she imposed a scary image to many, but Jack only smiled.

Chuckling breathlessly, Jack said, "Oh, yeah… I think I slept through the phone…"

"And obviously your alarm too!" she chastised. Jack only smiled again. Frowning, she snapped, "You're lucky I bother to wake you for work. Hurry up and meet me back out here in three minutes."

Jack nodded numbly and went back to his room. He took one of his previously hidden bags and shoved it into his portfolio case. He quickly switched his clothes to a white t-shirt, a big, baggy blue sweater, and brown jeans. Even with the sweater, Jack felt like he was freezing. He grabbed a pair of gloves just in case- ignoring the obvious tears in the fabric. Tia wouldn't notice his crappy gloves… She never did.

Nobody ever noticed. All they ever saw was a sleepy boy just trying to pay his rent and make a living as a painter. Nobody ever saw anything besides that. And that was how he liked it. No prying eyes into matters they should stay out of.

He returned to his friend with his portfolio and his new clothes, and the two walked out to work. They had been assigned to painting a mural on a little girl's room for two weeks now. It was going fairly well- the only setback had been their third partner in the job. Sandy, they called him, had gotten sick and couldn't help with his specific part of the painting.

The little girl wanted a Peter Pan themed wall. So Jack had been working diligently on making the best pirate ship he possibly could- Tia had been doing the mermaids- Sandy had been making the children and the pixie dust; a major component.

The girl's name was Sophie, and she was going through treatments for leukemia. This was her special present from her mother and her brother, Jamie: one of Jack's oldest, personal friends. Jamie had been the one to tell him of Sophie's illness.

Squatting down near the big blue wall, Jack added the finishing touches to his beautiful pirate ship. It even had Captain Hook standing at the wheel. He was rather proud of himself.

Once they had all finished, they took a few pictures for their website and their company. (Their boss required it before any sort of payments.) They walked back to their studio, Jack tagging behind his friends, rubbing his chilly arms.

He slipped his gloves on and continued rubbing his arms. Sandy looked back at him at one point and asked, "Jack, you cold? It's like eighty degrees out, dude."

Smiling, Jack replied, "Yeah, I've just been getting over a little cold, that's all…" He replied, meekly pulling his hands to his pocket in the hopes that he could stay warm that way.

The three entered their boss' office, and he smiled at them. On his desk read the golden name, "Rimsky North". And by the side of his desk was his ever faithful accountant, Aster Bunnymund. An inseparable pair if Jack ever saw one.

North grinned. "Ah, good, you're back!" he greeted with his heavy Russian accent, "I have new job for you!" Tia offered him the photos, but he waved her away. "Yes, yes, I vill look at those later. But first, you have new client!"

Tia sighed in irritation ad set the photos on his desk. They all waited for him to tell them what they would have to do.

"Kozmotis Pitchiner Black, the curator of the morgue and funeral homes and museum of history," he added in all of his accomplishments so that they would feel honored. So far, Jack felt nothing but could and lonely. He wanted a hug desperately. He didn't know why. He just needed a hug. North continued, however, "Has asked for frescos on walls of funeral home! Wants it to be angels flying after death, or as close to as you can manage…" North waved his hand in a circle to illustrate that they had a little bit of leeway.

They all nodded at their new assignment and once North gave them an address, they headed out. Jack looked back hopefully at the two men in the room, but his sad look was ignored. Maybe he wanted someone to notice… Maybe he was tired of being the way he was… Maybe Jack wanted more than a hug…

Blowing into his hands, Jack followed his friends out in the sunlight and continued to shiver desperately. It was getting worse. His hands weren't steady. How could he paint like this?

They got to the funeral house, a large black cathedral styled building, and Tia quickly greeted a man standing near a podium. He smiled warmly at her, shook her hand, and introduced himself as Pitch Black, their client. Hadn't North said his name was Kozmotis…?

Rubbing his head, Jack grumbled about how he may have misheard. Pitch proceeded to show Tia the wall he wanted her to work on. He returned and introduced himself to Sandy with a smile, and then went to Jack to say hello as well.

Jack quickly slipped off his glove and shook the man's hand. Pitch blinked at him in surprise. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

Jack flinched- this went unnoticed by Sandy, who was walking toward his own wall. Swallowing, Jack asked with a nervous stutter, "W-what do y-you mean…?"

"Well, your eyes are red, were you crying?" he asked, reaching his hand forward a little, but not touching Jack. Jack was grateful for that.

Smiling as convincingly as he could, Jack said, "Oh, no, I'm just getting over a cold, that's all…" Pitch whispered a soft 'oh' and Jack asked sheepishly, "So... which wall do you want me to do…?"

The man with slick black hair led him to a tall, black wall in the far back of the funeral house. He motioned to it with a small smile and walked away, back to his podium. Jack watched him for a while, as if reassuring himself that he was really leaving, before setting his bag down and beginning to empty out his paints. He hadn't even started yet.

Picking up a brush, Jack's eyes widened in fear as it fell from his trembling hands with a clatter. Grabbing his forearms and rubbing fiercely, suddenly sweating in spite of the chill. Staggering to his feet, Jack pulled the bag from his room out and shoved it into his pocket.

He stumbled carefully over to Pitch Black and asked with a slur, "Wheresa bafroom?" Pitch blinked, noticing Jack's sudden change in behavior, but he pointed carefully to his left.

As Jack waddled away, Pitch asked, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Jack felt angry that he would ask. But then again… he was touched to hear someone ask… How long had it been since someone asked if he would be alright…?

He said he'd be fine, though, and pushed into the bathroom. He didn't even bother to get into a stall. He collapsed to the floor, fumbled with his pockets, and ripped out the bag. Emptying out an amount he had grown to know by heart of its powdery white contents into his palm, Jack smiled with relief. He lifted his palm to his face and inhaled the 'snowflakes' deeply- reveling in the immediate sensation it brought him.

Resting his head back, Jack allowed his eyes to flutter shut for a moment as his high returned to him and his sense of reality and pain died down. A soft gasp near him startled him out of his bliss.

Looking up, Jack swallowed with fear upon seeing his client, Pitch, standing there staring down at him. He looked horrified. Quickly shoving the bag back into his pocket, he stuttered to find an explanation. He felt like he was going to cry.

"Please, it's not what you think!" he whimpered, "P-please, don't tell the others…! Please don't call the c-cops..! I can't go back to rehab…! Not again..!"

Pitch blinked his big yellow eyes at Jack for a moment before kneeling and pulling the snowy blonde into a deep, warm hug. In spite of all his fears, Jack clung to him; the warmth… It was so foreign to him now. He loved being warm. He didn't want the cold to come back. He wanted to be warm.

But his drug-induced mind was more receptive than his withdrawn one. Jack quickly asked, "Y-you won't tell…?"

"No," Pitch replied, holding him tighter, causing Jack to wince in slight discomfort that would surely be a painful bruise once he was off this one… Pitch let go and held Jack's shoulders. He looked into the boy's blue eyes and said, "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to…"

Jack smiled weakly, and falsely… He was… happy, wasn't he? Why didn't he feel happy…?

"Do you want to stay like this?" Pitch asked him gently. Jack blinked at him in shock. What? He whispered his thoughts aloud, and Pitch spoke again.

Gently running his fingers across Jack's forehead, Pitch asked, "Do you want to get better… or do you want to stay like this…?"

Suddenly tears blurred his vision. Swallowing, Jack whimpered, "Yes!" he threw his trembling, freezing arms around the older man's neck, "Yes, I want to get better…! I don't wanna have to do this anymore…!" Now he was sobbing into the black haired man's shoulder. "I don't wanna depend on it anymore…"

Pitch held the shaking boy close. Stroking the top of his head, he whispered, "Shh, I know, I know… It'll be alright… I'm here…" Jack looked up at him with watery eyes. He looked wary, curious, scared…

Smiling sweetly, Pitch whispered, "I'm here as long as you need me…"

Swallowing and choking on his sobs, Jack asked, "Y-yo-ou wou-old be wi-illing t-to d-d-deal w-with m-me-e…?"

"Of course," Pitch replied, cuddling him close, "It's what I needed when I went through it…" Holding him tight, Pitch whispered, "It's what will make the pain easier to bear… A shoulder whose had to bear it just the same as you…"

Jack swallowed again and sobbed freely into the warm shoulder, now wet with his tears. Shivering, and slowly slipping down so that his shaky fingers were barely clinging to the collar of his shirt, Jack felt a plea rise in his throat.

Stuttering and shivering, Jack whimpered, "Help me…"

"I will…" Pitch whispered back, rubbing the blue clad back, "I will…"

_**Well…. That was my newest idea for Jack… And Pitch a little bit…**_

_**Inspired by the song "The A Team"… **_

_**This may or may not be a one-shot. I could continue it and have Jack get through the addiction… Let me know what you'd prefer, I guess…**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Alright, I'm continuing this due to review requests. :) Awesome. Now let's move on with this.**_

_**Oh, and because I forgot to mention- this contains crazy amounts of Out of Character moments. So, before you yell about how Pitch is too nice, please take note, I finally remembered to warn you.**_

_**Breathing In The Snowflakes- Two**_

Shivering into the taller man's chest, Jack felt safe: something he hadn't had the privilege to feel in a long, long time. The warm hands against the back of his neck were welcomed, in spite of hardly knowing this man. He needed comfort right now.

"Do you want me to get your friends?" Pitch asked calmly, stroking the soft white blonde hair gently.

Jack shook his head no and felt a few tears leak out of his eyes as he whimpered, "No…" Swallowing back a sob, he said, "They.. they can't see me like this…" Pitch patted his back tenderly, but Jack felt the need to explain why. He finally had someone to listen.

"I… They think I've b-been clean for almost a year now… Af… After rehab I…" he lost his voice, feeling all the guilt of his lies well up in his throat. He had betrayed his friends, and now he was right back on the drugs… If they knew, what would they say? He couldn't face their anger…

Pitch carefully helped Jack up to his feet. Slipping the bag full of white powder back into the pocket of his hoodie, he walked the boy to a sink. Tearing off a paper towel, Pitch ran it under some warm water and began dabbing gingerly at Jack's white nostrils and lips.

Jack blinked wearily at him, but Pitch offered no words, just a smile and more soft taps of the wet sheet to his face. He could feel the warmth of it on his lips and Jack sighed happily at it.

The door opened and Jack recognized the voice of Sandy when he asked, "Is everything alright?" Instinctively, he hid his face from view.

Smiling a little, Pitch turned back to Sandy and replied, "Yes, Jack has just come down with a fever…"

Pitch then began guiding Jack out of the restroom and he led him to a room with a large, black leather couch. Jack had whimpered with fear when Sandy asked if he needed to go home. He was happy Pitch responded for him- would his voice crack with shame if he tried to speak to his friend…? He heard Tia ask what happened, and vaguely heard Sandy answer her.

Sitting slowly, Pitch motioned for him to stay there before turning and walking into an adjoining room. He came back with a small cup and he offered the steaming drink to him.

"Here," he said, taking Jack's hand and helping him hold the China, "Drink this, it'll help…" Jack nodded numbly and sipped the liquid, which he quickly deduced as tea, and cringed at the searing heat of it. It probably wasn't more than warm, but Jack was so unused to it…

Pitch sat beside him and carefully rubbed the boy's shoulder. Jack smiled softly at him and relaxed at seeing Sandy back at his wall painting. Letting his eyes go back to the man whom he now viewed as a friend, he whispered, "Thank you…"

The black haired man smiled warmly. "You don't have to thank me," he said, "you needed someone… I know- I was a heroin addict for twelve years…" Jack blushed sheepishly, but still smiled.

Pitch quickly got a small slip of paper, scribbling onto it, and he handed it to the blue eyed boy. When Jack blinked confusedly at the numbers, Pitch explained, "It's my number… If you ever need to talk, I'm always willing to listen…" Jack felt tears forming around the corners of his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

Pitch carefully sat beside him again. After a while of Jack just sipping the tea, he said, "I know how it feels when you lie to your friends…" Jack blinked at him, "I understand you don't want to hurt them… But it's easiest to work through this with people who are close to you…"

Swallowing, Jack looked at his tea, swirling it in his cup. "I- I know," he whimpered after a while. Biting his lip, he said in a whisper, "But it was so hard for them the first time… I… I know I shouldn't worry… B-but… But… without the drug, I feel… I…" He lost his voice.

Pitch rubbed his shoulder tenderly. "Relax," he said with a smile, "You don't have to go back to work today… Just start whenever you can…"

Smiling, Jack nodded in agreement. As he sat with Pitch, sipping the tea, and feeling warmer than he had in months, Jack felt at peace. Even after three hours without another fix, he didn't feel weak, shaky, or cold. He felt no pain, he felt only soft warmth.

But once he had to leave, Jack's peace was shattered and shaken. He didn't want to leave- what if he broke down? What if he wasn't strong enough by himself?

Turning to Pitch before he left, he gripped his sleeve and looked to him with pleading eyes. "Please," he whimpered, shivering, "I'm scared…"

The older man blinked, but quickly took Jack's hand in his and held it for a moment. "You'll be alright," he whispered, "You're strong… You can get through this… Remember, you can call me if you really need it… "He added the last part for reassurance. Smiling weakly, Jack nodded and slowly walked out- slipping his gloves onto his hands.

When he got home, he tried to avoid his bedroom at all costs. He knew what was waiting for him in there, and he was so afraid to go back for it. He sat on his couch for a while, trying to ignore the steady return of trembling to his limbs. He forced his eyes closed, pulling a blanket around himself, and he laid down for a nap.

When he woke back up, Jack could have sworn he could see his breath he felt so cold. Looking at his arms, he saw goose bumps making his pale hair stick out straight through his fuzzy vision. Blinking, he tried to regain his normal vision and failed. Trying to lift himself up, Jack nearly broke into tears at finding himself collapsing. Everything hurt- his head was spinning. He needed it… But he so desperately wished he didn't. He tried to lie there, fighting his need, managing a few minutes, before he began trying to sit up to get the bag from his pocket.

When he pulled it out, a slip of paper fluttered to the floor. Blinking, Jack felt tears streaming down his face. Setting the bag down, Jack fumbled for his cellphone, and he began dialing for Pitch.

He was oblivious to the time- all he knew was he was scared.

After the phone rang twice, a sleepy sounding voice answered, "Hullo?"

"P-pitch…" Jack whimpered, breaking into fervent sobs of terror.

The tone in the voice on the other end immediately changed. "Jack?" Pitch asked, sounding worried, "What's wrong? Are you okay? What happened?"

"P-please come over," he sobbed, "P-please…" Pitch said he would, asking his address. Jack barely could remember by this point. His hands were shaking so ferociously now he was afraid he was going to throw the phone across the floor.

"Is your apartment unlocked?" Pitch asked- Jack had hardly heard him. He blubbered a weak, "yeah" and he heard Pitch telling him not to hang up.

"You're gonna be alright, Jack," he said. Jack was reaching for the bag. He felt so horrible. He needed the release the drug would bring him. He needed the pain to go away.

"My body hurts…" he whimpered, falling back into the couch and convulsing slightly, trying to open the bag.

Pitch sounded terrified on the other end of the line, "Jack…!? Jack, try to stay calm, I'm almost there, just wait…!"

Jack was sobbing now; the phone had been dropped to the floor some time ago as he tried tearing the bag open with his teeth when his fingers wouldn't do the job. He couldn't take it anymore. He felt like his organs were shutting down. He hadn't felt this bad since rehab- when the doctors forced him to stop taking the drugs all together.

He felt something warm. Blinking bleary eyes up, Jack wailed desperately and flung himself into Pitch's torso. He was trembling violently now, and the room was beginning to spin worse, but he already felt better knowing Pitch was there.

Of course, Pitch couldn't make the pain go away.

Sitting and holding Jack with one arm, Pitch opened the bag and asked, "How much have you been taking daily…?"

"I- I don't…" Jack couldn't remember at first. But when the number came back to him, he told Pitch weakly.

Pitch nodded, and purposely gave Jack a little bit less than what he normally would have taken. He held his hand to the boy, who inhaled against his skin deeply, still shivering with his withdrawal. Jack's foggy mind didn't notice the lesser amount- all he knew was he was getting what he needed.

After a moment or two, Jack's shivering subsided and his grip in Pitch's shirt loosened. Letting his head fall into his lap, Jack's eyes fluttered shut. At first Pitch thought that he was just calm, but when Jack started snoring, he quickly realized that he had fallen asleep. Sighing in exasperation, Pitch ruffled the nearly white locks and let himself smile down at the peaceful sleeping form.

Of course he'd be tired- he had called him at nearly one in the morning. Sighing fondly, he took out his phone and set himself an alarm to be sure they both woke up at six. He then leaned his head back against the couch cushions and fell asleep himself.

When his phone woke him, Pitch picked it up as he rubbed his eyes free of sleep. He shut the alarm off and gently began shaking Jack free of his slumber. At first he waved him away, but once Pitch had gotten through the REM sleep, Jack was waking up.

Blinking open puffy red eyes- a combination of the drug's effects and the crying from the night- Jack was confused to find someone with him until he looked up at Pitch. The instant he saw his face it all came back to him. Smiling a little, Jack whispered, "Thanks…"

"I told you," Pitch said, ruffling the young boy's hair, "You don't have to thank me…"

"I'm thanking you anyway…" Jack grumbled, slowly lifting himself up.

Smiling, Pitch asked, "Want to hear something I didn't tell you…?" Jack looked at him and waited. "First, how do you feel?" Pitch asked.

"Normal," Jack replied, feeling a little disheartened at admitting that when he was on a high he felt normal.

"I didn't give you the amount you told me- I gave you less," Pitch said. He grinned happily at Jack's shocked face. "You can lessen the amount you take little by little if you really work at it," he said, "And eventually you'll be weaned off it completely…"

Frowning, Jack mulled over how that wasn't what happened to him in rehab. The doctors had just forced him not to take any of it at all for days. Then again… his doctor had been fired three weeks after his treatment for malpractice, so maybe he was just unlucky…

Jack laid back down in Pitch's lap. He may not have been his best friends, but Pitch was the best thing he had right now. And he was genuinely thankful to have him here.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Breathing In The Snowflakes Three**_

Sitting on his couch still, Jack was happy Pitch hadn't left yet. He offered to drive Jack back to the funeral home to work today- to which Jack happily agreed. He felt safe with Pitch, and any excuse not to face his friends was taken gladly. He was still so scared… He didn't want them to hate him for lying to them.

Pitch had gotten Jack some warm water. Jack didn't have much in his house food or drink wise, but it didn't seem to bother Pitch like it did Tia. She always told him he was going to starve if he didn't buy some fatty foods. He couldn't ever tell her he spent all his money on drugs…

The simple fact that the water was warm made Jack's morning better. It was strange that he never thought to just drink something warm or eat warm things before- but maybe he was so high that he just couldn't think straight. He sipped the water with a smile, letting the warmth settle over his tongue before swallowing. The heat spread to his belly and soon Jack felt better.

It was nearly seven when Pitch said they should go. Jack nodded and got up to go change, but froze when he reached the doorway to his bedroom. He could see the corner of a plastic zip bag. And his terror was so severe that he stumbled backwards into the wall, clutching his head and whimpering with tears. Pitch rushed to his side almost immediately.

"Jack, what is it?" he asked. Jack couldn't make words- he just pointed into the room. Pitch turned and looked, seeing the bag full of white powder. He hurried to the room and moved the bags into a small black case in Jack's room. He took the case and set it out on Jack's couch.

The boy still whimpering, Pitch carefully wrapped an arm around him and walked him into his bedroom, whispering comforting words the whole way. He got Jack more warm water, and once Jack had downed that, he was able to function enough to change clothes.

When they were about to leave, Pitch asked, "Did you bring a bag?"

Flinching, Jack whimpered, "I don't wanna…"

Smiling comfortingly, Pitch went and got the bag from the night before. He slipped it into the pocket of Jack's new sweater as he said, "You should bring it just in case… If you start relapsing terribly and don't have it, it'll be worse…"

"But I'm scared…" Jack whimpered, trying to take the bag back out. Pitch stopped him and closed Jack's hand and held it.

The blue eyes blinked up at him. He didn't say anything, just smiled softly at the boy.

Jack was currently working on his painting. His was very much death related- he had pale, ghastly looking figures roughly on the wall already, and he was working on sketching onto the canvas. He was making an angel floating down to embrace the figures who looked strikingly like Holocaust victims. Once he had planned out and painted the edge of where her wings would be, Jack went to ask Pitch if he had any tea, or if he had any more scarves- he was already wearing two.

This was the most common after-effect Jack experienced with his addiction: constantly feeling cold, even when sweating. It was awful.

He knocked quietly on the door to the room Pitch had given him tea in the first day. Pitch looked up and smiled expectantly at him.

"D-do you have any tea…?" he asked in a meek voice, "I… I'm cold…"

Pitch nodded and went into the other room. He gave Jack a Styrofoam cup so he could take it out to the wall with him. He followed to observe Jack's work so far. Sandy and Tia were on their way- Jack had just caught up with their progress.

Looking over the faces of the figures, Pitch commented, "They look so sad…"

"I'm gonna have the angel looking all protective," Jack explained, motioning to the form above the humans. Pitch nodded- watching as Jack was able to paint more onto the ghastly men and women. Some were half nude, but they were all strikingly skinny. He had a feeling this was how Jack saw himself.

Tia came in and gasped loudly enough for Jack to hear. He turned and saw her awestruck face. She stepped slowly towards him, never once taking her gaze off the wall, and she whispered, "Oh, Jack… It's beautiful…"

With a slight blush, Jack said, "Thanks…" Pitch smiled at him, making Jack blush deeper. When Sandy came back, he was just as amazed as Tia was at the painting. He said he was jealous at how fast Jack worked.

After painting for several hours, Jack began noticing a slight tremble in his hands. He ignored it for a long time, however, until his strokes were becoming sloppy and blurry. Setting the brush aside, he rubbed his arms as the chill in his body became worse and drank more of the tea. It warmed him and soothed some of the shaking, but he knew soon it wouldn't be enough.

After trying a few more times to paint, Jack gave up and went back to rubbing his arms desperately. When Pitch came out to check up on their progress, he noticed Jack's huddled form. Walking over to him cautiously, he asked in a whisper, "Are you alright?"

"Ju… Just… c-cold…" Jack lied. He could feel the need coming back to him. His arms and hands were beginning to ache- his feet throbbed. Pitch frowned a little at him; Jack made the most convincingly cold face he could, and the man walked away. He came back a moment later, however, as Jack felt something warm and fuzzy drape over his shoulders.

Blinking at the blanket, Jack looked up at Pitch with grateful, yet sad eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, trying to hide his trembling.

Smiling tenderly down at him, Pitch said, "Let me know if you need to stop for your next dose… okay…?" Jack nodded half-heartedly. He wanted to deny that he felt the need for the drug again. He wished he was just over the addiction. He wanted so badly to not rely on the drug to make him feel good.

Pitch left him. Sandy looked at Jack and asked, "Jack, you okay buddy?"

"Yeah, fever's just back a bit… Just trying to keep the rest of me warm," Jack lied, pulling the blanket tighter around his form.

"You know you can take a break if you really need to," Sandy offered, Tia agreeing.

Feeling weak in the knees, Jack mumbled, "Maybe in a bit, yeah…" His head was beginning to feel light and the aches weren't going away. Everything hurt, and everything felt cold. Looking at his arm quickly, Jack could see goose bumps once again, and he groaned to himself. He fought for a long while after that, but he was beginning to lose rational thought now, and he knew he needed to take more. Lest he want another episode like last night.

Getting up, Jack wobbled into Pitch's waiting room, and not seeing him there, into the next room. Pitch looked a little surprised to see him, but seeing the way his pale hair stuck to his sweaty brow, he quickly understood what was wrong. He got up and helped Jack into a chair out of view of the doorway. Jack took the bag out and poured a small amount of the powder into his hand. It was hardly a speck.

"Jack, you know that you're just going to set yourself up for a craving later," Pitch said, gently taking Jack's hand with the bag and tipping it so more spilled into his palm. Looking at the amount, Pitch took a pinch away and ran it under the sink.

Jack stared at the powder in his hand. He wanted to dump it to the floor so badly. But he needed to breathe it in. He just couldn't do it… He didn't want to… Not anymore… His shoulders were beginning to jolt and flinch without his consent, but he still tried to fight his body.

Pitch came and placed an arm across the boy's shoulders. Gently, Pitch cupped Jack's hand with his own, and he whispered, "It's alright… Just do it now… You'll be alright…"

"D… don't leave me…" Jack whimpered, still staring at the flaky white in his hand.

Caressing the shaking shoulders, Pitch said, "I'm right here…" And with the last little nudge of support, Jack inhaled deeply. He sighed afterwards, letting his body fall into Pitch's.

Soon enough his trembling subsided and he was able to relax his mind again. But almost as soon as that relief came, Jack began to cry openly. Pitch blinked in surprise.

"Jack, what's wrong…?" Pitch asked, holding both his shoulders.

Jack buried his face in Pitch's shirt, whimpering, "I hate myself…"

Staring at him in shock, Pitch didn't know what to say at first. But he quickly pulled the boy out of his shirt, looking him dead in the eye and saying reassuringly, "You don't hate yourself… You hate what the drug's made you become…"

"I'm the one who keeps taking it," he whimpered, salty water running down over his white lips.

Pitch stroked the white blonde hair, whispering, "It's not your fault, Jack… Don't blame yourself…"

Sniffling, Jack let his face fall back against Pitch's chest- the safest place he knew now. After trying to calm down, Jack spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, "You know when I first tried it…?" Pitch looked down at him expectantly. "It was at a party… And my friends brought it…"

"_Try it_ they said. _It'll be __**fun**_ they said… Well I tried it… And look where I am now…" Jack began to cry again.

Pitch cooed softly, nuzzling Jack's head tenderly. "Oh… Oh, oh, oh, oh, Jack, no…" he lulled like a mother, "It's all okay now…" Pitch kissed his forehead. "I promise… It'll all be better soon…"

Jack sniffled softly. "I want it to be better now," he whimpered. Pitch stroked his hair, saying softly over and over again, 'I know'. Eventually the voice had soothed him. He felt sleepy in Pitch's arms. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Nuzzling in closer to him, Jack allowed his eyes to fall shut. Pitch let the boy rest for a while- nearly an hour, before he woke him.

"You've got to go," he told him kindly. Jack swallowed, but nodded. Pitch didn't mean back to work, he meant leave for home. It was time for him to go.

As Jack finished packing, Tia and Sandy both said goodbyes and they walked out. Pitch bid them farewell, and looked back to Jack. The blue eyed boy looked to him pleadingly. As if begging him not to leave him alone tonight.

Walking over to him, Pitch rubbed his back tenderly. After a moment of Jack just begging with his eyes, Pitch asked, "How 'bout I take you out to eat somewhere tonight…?"

**And now I've finally been able to update some morsies… Morsies… WTF… Brain….**

**Should I edit this so that it's in the PITCH JACK section of the fandom…? It might make it easier for Black Ice fans to find… Of course, it might infuriate those who look at this just as an explosion of feels…**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Breathing In The Snowflakes Four**_

The restaurant Pitch chose was big, and crowded, and noisy, and bright, but oh so very warm… Jack couldn't be happier sitting directly underneath a heating vent- the waiter asked if he minded it, was he crazy?! It was fantastic! Warm soothing air ruffling his hair; Jack adored this feeling…

And being able to snuggle into Pitch made it even better. Sure, they got a booth and they could have sat opposite each other, but Jack had asked if he'd stay by him. The older man understood that he was afraid of doing something terrible if he became needy again. He agreed, and Jack was currently nuzzled into his shoulder.

"Can I get you two anything?" their waiter came back, smiling a little too widely.

"What do you want Jack?" Pitch asked, nudging the sleepy blonde.

Blinking, Jack sat up and ordered the largest portion of mac and cheese they had. He asked to have five different cheeses on it. "I can get that, right?" he asked Pitch, suddenly remembering who was paying for this. Pitch nodded and Jack smiled brightly. Sure, Jack was old enough where he really should be paying for his own meals, but nobody ever asked if he had the money to do so…

Pitch ordered his food, and not long after they each received their drinks. Jack had gotten hot chocolate. Taking a sip, Jack shivered and grinned at how it burned his tongue. Swallowing, he blew on it a few times to help stop the sear it gave.

The older male rubbed Jack's back and asked, "Everything alright so far…?"

Jack nodded. "It's so warm," he said, "I don't feel like I need anything else right now…" Jack finally felt like a normal person.

The two sat and talked until their food arrived. When Jack got his, those blue eyes blinked rapidly with excitement. He never realized how hungry he was- considering he hadn't eaten all day. He tried to be polite and eat calmly at first, but his hunger beat him and soon he was shoveling food into his mouth. Pitch chuckled at him, asking, "Good?"

Jack grinned at him with full cheeks: Pitch laughed again. Jack was able to finish about half the food before his stomach was protesting with pain. So he leaned back into the cushions and let his head rest on his new friend's shoulder.

"Thank you," he said gently.

Pitch ruffled his hair playfully. "I told you to stop thanking me all the time," he teased, "you're just a druggie and I'm just trying to be nice." Jack smiled a little at the druggie comment, but it upset him to hear that. He didn't want to think of himself as a druggie, but it was probably true…

Their waiter came back, asked if they wanted boxes, as Pitch didn't finish either, and then he asked something that made both men blush.

"And can I offer any dessert to the happy couple?"

Jack's face was beat red- he jumped off of Pitch, arguing quickly that they weren't a couple. Pitch hushed him and said Jack wanted apple pie to take home. Jack said he had never said that, but Pitch hushed him again.

The waiter nodded and walked away, seemingly very pleased at how much he had embarrassed the younger of the two. Jack pouted at Pitch.

"You didn't have to get me dessert," he whined, "I didn't want any…"

Pitch only smiled. "You'll appreciate it later," he said, taking their bill up to be paid. Jack waited in the booth- packing up his leftovers. Pitch came back, asking with a smile, "Ready to go?" The pale haired boy nodded and they walked out together. Jack made sure to pout angrily at their waiter on the way.

As they walked, Jack realized how much colder it was outside than in the restaurant. He rubbed his arms desperately to stay warm. Even though he had a jacket and a sweater, he was still incredibly cold. Pitch noticed and quickly wrapped his jacket around Jack. Now he had three extra warm layers. The smaller male sighed happily at the extra warmth.

"Thanks," he whispered, pulling the fabric tight around his shoulders. Pitch told him it was no problem. They walked back to Pitch's car, and the owner proceeded to turn the heat up for Jack. The blue eyes blushed deeply at how nice Pitch was being.

As he drove Jack home, Pitch noticed that his head kept lulling forward and jolting back. Jack was falling asleep.

Once they got home, Pitch found himself unable to wake such a peaceful looking face. He got out and carefully lifted Jack from his seat. He took him into his apartment and set him down on his bed. He made to pull away, but was tugged right back. Looking down, he smiled a little seeing Jack's sleeping form clinging to him like a teddy bear. Jack was even sucking on Pitch's thumb.

Sighing, the older man sat down and allowed Jack to keep him there. He eventually fell asleep as well. He woke up to Jack whimpering and practically ripping his arm out of its socket.

Jack was still asleep, but the way he shivered and the fact his clothes stuck to him with sweat told Pitch he wouldn't be for long. The blue eyes blinked open a few times and Jack groaned loudly with pain. Pitch stroked the top of his head and went to get Jack's drugs.

Pulling him up into a sitting position, Pitch was afraid when Jack began to shudder violently. He had gone too long without a fix. He was getting to where he had been the other night. Pitch put some powder into his hand and told Jack he needed to take it.

"N-nooo…" Jack groaned, coughing and choking as he tried to breathe in properly, "Noo…" He tried to push Pitch's hand away from him, but he only managed to hit his arm and have both his hands fall trembling to his lap.

Pitch tried to get Jack to breathe in, but Jack wouldn't. His shaking was becoming much worse now, and Pitch could physically feel how cold his skin was, in spite of the sheen of sweat covering it. "Jack, I know you don't want to, but you need it," he told him, making the boy look him in the eye, "You have to take it if you want to get through this."

The blue eyes blinked tiredly at him before they turned away and closed as he inhaled the drug that sustained him. Pitch sighed with relief when Jack did. Sure, they were weaning him off the drug, but waiting until he was this bad probably was doing more harm than good.

The boy moved his white lips as if trying to say something. But he was still not sated, and therefore, only managed to gurgle out nonsense.

Looking down at him, Pitch whispered, "Jack, we can't keep doing this… You have to take it before your body starts shutting down…"

"I don't ever wanna take it again," Jack mumbled, trying to pull away from Pitch and failing.

Pitch forced him to stay in his arms. "Jack, you'll get there, I know it," he whispered, "but right now you've got to keep taking less and less of it every day until you finally can stop…"

Jack sighed sadly. He wanted to go back to that restaurant. Where it was so warm and everything distracted him from the truth. Cuddling in closer to Pitch, Jack reveled in his body heat. He needed somewhere safe and warm and right now, Pitch was the best place he had.

"Was it this bad for you?" he asked gently.

Pitch nodded and said, "Yes… Sometimes it was worse… I'd hurt myself when I needed another dose… I'd wake up after a high and find bruises and cuts all over my body… Friends would tell me I had done it to myself…" Jack felt terrible hearing that, and so he hugged Pitch a little tighter to show him that he cared.

"How…" Jack blushed sheepishly, "How did you first become addicted…?"

Pitch sighed and rubbed his forehead. "It's not something I'm terribly proud of…" he said, "It was after my wife and daughter had both been killed… I needed an escape… And I found the drugs to bring me that… I didn't realize until much later that I was killing myself with them…" Jack felt even worse for him now- pity radiated from the big blue eyes staring up at him.

"I'm sorry for you," he whimpered, trying to nuzzle closer, though he was already squishing the older male he was hugging him so close. Pitch thanked him and let his head fall back.

After a minute of holding onto the warmth, Jack asked, "How come you stayed?"

"You wouldn't let me leave," he grumbled, not looking at him, "You were gripping my arm like a lifeline and sucking on my fingers in your sleep…" Jack blushed at the finger part.

"You could've pushed me off," he grumbled.

Pitch smiled. "I wasn't going to wake you up like that, now was I? That would've been rude," he said. Shifting his weight, Pitch pushed against Jack's shoulders, saying, "Now get off me, I've got to head home…"

Jack frowned. "Couldn't you stay…?"

The yellow eyed man blinked down at Jack's sad and scared face. Sighing, he gave in and allowed him to hug him even tighter.

"I feel safer with you here," Jack mumbled, the left side of his face pressed deep into Pitch's chest, "I don't want that feeling to go away…" Pitch smiled sweetly at that and stroked the top of Jack's head.

They stayed there for a while longer- Jack glanced every now and then at his digital clock. Eventually, though, they had to get up and get ready to leave. Pitch told Jack he couldn't drive him in today- he needed to change.

Jack didn't want him to leave, but Pitch told him he should go with his friends today. It would help him cope. The blue eyed boy wasn't so sure. But, he waited and called Tia to see if she would walk with him. She agreed.

The two were walking together down a sidewalk, Jack fiddling with the bag in his pocket nervously. He was afraid Tia would see it- even though he had made sure to hide it really well. He just didn't want her to be angry…

For some reason, touching the bag made Jack feel like he needed the drug more. He tried pulling his hand away, but it just ended up caressing the flimsy plastic more insistently. Jack was beginning to shiver with fear. He hadn't had his last dose that long ago- he shouldn't be this bad…! He could feel himself sweating now; he wiped his sleeve across his forehead in an attempt to hide it.

By the time he got to the funeral house he was a shivering, shaking mess. He was so afraid. Pitch would notice- there was absolutely no way he wouldn't, but what if Tia or Sandy took the hint? What if they realized he wasn't really sick…? What if… What if… The two words rang through his head in throngs, and Jack found himself clutching his skull to try and quiet his mind.

"Jack? You okay?" Sandy asked, just arriving with them.

Jack swallowed and gritted his teeth. He was developing a migraine. Groaning, Jack whimpered, "My head hurts…" He slipped a little and ended up falling into the wall. His friends were quickly by his side, helping him to his feet and asking him what he needed.

Pitch came to help them, leaving an elderly couple with a polite, "I'm sorry, one moment." They looked insulted until they saw him next to a young man who looked green around the gills. Jack looked terrible.

"Jack, are you feeling alright?" Pitch asked, putting his hand against Jack's forehead. Jack whimpered numbly as his body shook more and the chill stole him again. But he was still sweating- and that made it all so very much worse.

Pitch helped the other two take Jack into his waiting room. They laid him across the couch and Sandy rushed to get a wet washcloth. He set the icy wet fabric across his unwell friend's brow, and Jack moaned uncomfortably at how much colder it made him.

Trying to pull it off, Jack whined, "Coooolld…" Tia pushed the cloth right back into place, and Pitch went to give Jack some tea. The warm liquid helped some, but it obviously wasn't enough.

"Maybe he should go home," Tia whispered to Sandy.

Jack's eyes flew open; he jumped into a sitting position, shouting, "NO! No, I can't go home!" His shoulders were shaking violently now as he yelled, tears running down his face, "I have to work! I can't go back!"

The trembling blonde fell forward, Pitch catching him. The other two were absolutely terrified for Jack's well-being. Jack whimpered into Pitch's ear over and over, "I'm scared. Pitch, I'm scared…" This worried his friends further.

Pitch gave Jack more to drink and he rubbed his back gently. Turning to the other two, he said, "Would one of you kindly tell the Robinsons I'll be with them in just a moment…?" Sandy nodded and hurried out to the old couple.

Jack was still shaking, but not so terribly now. Pitch knew he wasn't but he asked calmly, "Better?" Jack nodded weakly. Tia sighed a little.

"Will he be okay?" she asked, looking at Pitch hopefully. Sandy came back in and waited to hear the conversation.

Nodding, Pitch replied, "I think so… He just needs some rest… Why don't we give him some time alone to sleep this off…?" The two nodded and walked out of the room, glancing back at Jack every two steps to the door, and then watching him with worried eyes from the doorway before leaving.

Pitch squatted down before Jack, blocking his face from view in the doorway, and he carefully took the bag from Jack's pocket. He held out a handful of the powder, and Jack didn't argue this time; he inhaled obediently and let his head fall into the pillows of the couch.

Wiping the white from his mouth and nostrils, Pitch whispered, "I'll be right outside if you need me…" Jack watched him leave, and his eyes fell shut as peace returned to him. Soon that calm transformed into sleep, and Jack was snoring quietly on the couch- bag tucked back into his pocket.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes Five**_

When Jack woke, he found his vision blurry and his head throbbing. He felt worse now than he had before. Trying to sit up, Jack sobbed when he fell to the floor. Everything hurt. Hurt so bad…

Tears rolled down his cheeks and onto the rug on the floor below. He whimpered sadly- was this what he had been reduced to? A helpless, useless pile of flesh? Jack cried into the ground. He didn't want to call Pitch in to help him; he didn't want him to see him this way. But the harder he tried to lift himself back up, the less and less strength he had to move at all.

Biting his lip and letting more tears roll away, Jack whimpered out, "P-Pitch…" His voice was so soft and so weak he knew he wouldn't hear him. Swallowing, he tried to say it again with more force.

"Pitch… Help…" Jack sobbed, fingers curling into the rug as his shoulders shook with sobs. "Pitch…"

Trying again to lift himself up, Jack felt his elbows beginning to shudder and he knew he was going to collapse again. He used all of his last strength as he fell to shout, "Pitch…!"

His face hit the ground and Jack whimpered as warm liquid began running from his lip. He had bit it upon impact, and now all he could feel was the pain of the wound. Sobbing, he whimpered Pitch's name over and over again.

The door opened, and Jack lifted his eyes hopefully. He saw the familiar face he needed. "Pitch," he whispered, smiling weakly. The older man hurried to his side and carefully lifted him to the couch.

"What happened? Are you alright?" he asked, wiping away the trickle of blood from Jack's chin.

Jack smiled happily at him and tried to move his arms. He managed to raise them an inch or two before they fell back down- useless. Pitch set him back, resting him against the couch, whispering, "Hang on, I'll get something for your lip…"

Jack found slight strength. He whimpered softly, making Pitch look back at him. Tears beaded at the corners of Jack's eyes. "Don't go…" he whispered, "Please don't go…"

Swallowing, Pitch sat back down beside Jack and tried to help him. "Are you cold?" he asked, slowly rubbing his hand up and down Jack's numb arm. Jack breathed no, and Pitch asked, "Do you need another dose…?"

Jack pressed his face into Pitch's shoulder. The blood from his lips stained his shirt as Jack whispered, "I just need you here…" Pitch swallowed, nodded, and gently rubbed Jack's back.

After a moment or two, Tia came in and saw them. She immediately looked scared. "Is everything alright?" she asked, worry evident in her eyes.

"Jack's bit his lip," Pitch said quietly, "Could you get him some ointment…?" She nodded and hurried off to find some. Sandy came in moments later, after Tia told him what happened.

Sandy came to Jack's side, rubbing his friend's shoulder, asking, "Jack, bud, is everything okay…?"

Jack hid his face in Pitch's shirt, revealing the red stain to Sandy's eyes. "I'm okay…" he lied.

Tia returned a moment later and Pitch carefully adjusted how Jack was sitting. His eyes were red and puffy from all the crying, and the drug, and his lip was spotted red with the marks from his teeth. His female friend dabbed ointment onto the wounds, being cautious not to hurt Jack.

"Jack," she whispered, "Maybe you should stay home tomorrow… You don't look well…"

Jack whimpered, pushing himself forward, back into Pitch's arms. "Noo…" he groaned, "I wanna stay with Pitch…" He tried to hide his face, but that smeared the ointment and the blood, and Tia had to put more on.

Pitch sighed. If any time to tell his friends were better than now, he didn't see it. But it was Jack's job, not his, to tell them. Whatever happened he just had to support the sniffling blonde.

"What do you want…?" Pitch asked, rubbing Jack's back soothingly.

"I want to rest…" Jack whimpered, "I want to breathe again… Let me sleep…" Nuzzling his eyes into Pitch's neck, Jack breathed softly, "Please… I want to sleep…"

Once it was evident that Jack actually was doing just that, Tia asked, "Should we take him to a hospital?"

"No," Pitch replied, rubbing the back of the white head fondly, "that's the last place Jack wants to be right now… For now we'll just let him sleep…"

Sandy swallowed nervously at his sleeping friend. He hadn't seen Jack so sick in a long, long time. His lips quivered as he asked, "Is he relapsing…?" Pitch blinked and looked up at him. Sandy saw all the answers he needed in Pitch's silent stare.

"Please, don't let him know you know…" Pitch whispered, trying not to wake the boy, "He'll tell you when he's ready… Right now he's afraid you'll hate him…"

Tia blinked back tears. "Why would he think we'd hate him?" she asked, squatting down to ruffle Jack's hair lovingly.

"He's afraid…" Pitch said, stroking the boy's locks, "Just give him time…" Tia kissed Jack's cheek and the two of them sat and stayed in the room until they absolutely had no choice but to leave. Pitch had a feeling Jack wouldn't want to be alone tonight. Not after such a violent reaction…

Picking the tiny body up, Pitch carried him to his car. Setting his sleeping form in the passenger seat, he closed the door as quietly as possible. Would Jack be afraid if he woke somewhere that wasn't his apartment? Pitch decided not to risk it- he took Jack back to his small home and carefully laid him into the bed.

Blinking his big blue eyes open, Jack saw Pitch's retreating form.

"Don't leave," he gasped, trying to lift himself up and only managing to slip on the sheets. Pitch heard his voice, and he was quickly by the boy's side. Jack smiled and snuggled into his chest.

Feeling the warmth against his face, Jack whispered, "I'm glad I met you…"

After a short while Jack was asleep again, peacefully snoring in Pitch's arms. There was no way the older male could leave him like this- Jack would feel betrayed to wake alone… With a soft sigh, Pitch allowed himself to relax. He clicked Jack's alarm on and let sleep take him.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes Six**_

_ Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Jack groaned, throwing a lazy arm in the direction of his alarm clock. He didn't hit it. He ended up hitting something, but his alarm kept on buzzing at him.

"Dammit," he grumbled, moving his arm sleepily, trying to feel for the alarm. It felt like he was touching the wall. How had he ended up so close to the headboard? Blinking open a pair of sleepy blue eyes, Jack slammed his hand down on the alarm clock and let his head fall back down.

"Need more sleep…" he mewled, nuzzling in closer to the fabric beneath him. He felt so warm. He never wanted to leave his bed. "Mmmmm…"

A soft moan below him was what startled Jack into jumping into a sitting position. Staring with wide eyes, Jack didn't know what to think seeing Pitch Black lying there, rubbing his eyes free of sleep sand.

Jack quickly grabbed a pillow and slammed it down into the older man's chest. Pitch coughed and groaned, "What was that for…?"

"What are you doing in my bed?" Jack squeaked, staring at him in horror.

"You fell asleep ON me, what else was I supposed to do?" he grumbled, pushing the pillow off his chest and sitting up a little on his elbows.

Jack blinked at the red stains on Pitch's shirt. Did he cut himself? He tried to remember yesterday, but most of it was a blur: something he was all too used to.

Rubbing his head, Jack asked, "What the hell happened yesterday…?"

"You collapsed on the floor in my funeral home and nearly gave all of us heart attacks…" Pitch grumbled, looking at Jack in an annoyed manner.

Ignoring the blatant fact that he was straddling the older male, Jack asked, "Did I say anything I wasn't supposed to?"

"Not that I recall," he said, "Although you did yell at Tia when she offered to take you home…" Jack blinked and swallowed, chewing his lip. He winced the instant he did and flung his hand up to touch his mouth. His fingertips came back red and wet.

"Oh, you've re-opened it," Pitch said, leaning forward and dabbing gently at Jack's lip with his fingers. "Suck your lip in, put pressure on it to stop the bleeding..." Jack did, shivering at the taste of his own blood.

"Were you high that whole time?" Pitch asked, looking a little surprised, "You seemed pretty coherent about what you wanted and didn't want…"

Letting his lip fall back out, Jack touched it lightly, mumbling, "I must have been… I can't remember anything…" Pitch nodded once, looking to the door of Jack's closet, noticing a shirt sleeve hanging out.

Jack climbed off Pitch and out of bed after he deemed his lip to have stopped bleeding. Looking around, Jack figured he may as well change into some clean clothes… Or… clean-_er__**.**_

__Pulling his shirt off, Jack grabbed the loose shirt from the door of his closet and quickly slid it over his head. Fumbling with one of the sleeves, Jack turned to Pitch and asked, "Did I bite my lip yesterday too?"

"Mmhmm," Pitch replied, standing and stretching out his limbs, "I think you did it when you collapsed… I didn't see exactly… I came in after you called me…" Jack pouted in confusion. "Do you not even remember when I gave you your last dose?"

Jack shook his head. "I remember getting inside the funeral home and that's basically it… The rest is kind of a blur," he said, finally tugging the shirt over his stomach. Pitch asked where Jack's bathroom was, saying he felt like he needed to wash his face. Jack pointed him in the right direction and changed pants while he was out.

The white haired boy went and sat on his couch. He used to have a coffee table too, but that had to be sold to help pay bills… He missed it… Grumbling, Jack got up and checked his mail box outside his door. He got some more bills and a few advertisements and other crap. Rolling his eyes, he checked through his bill.

"How am I gonna afford this…?" he muttered, seeing how his electric bill was still just as crazy high as normal. Pitch came back, rubbing his face with a towel, and he noticed Jack mulling over some papers. It was before six in the morning, but Jack didn't seem tired at all now.

"Bills?" Pitch asked, sitting next to his friend. Jack nodded.

"Electric's just as high as last month, and I don't really even use anything…!" he complained.

Laughing a little, Pitch got up and went to one of the lamps that wasn't turned on. He pulled its plug from the wall, moving to the TV next. "Ever watch it?" he asked. Jack said no, so he pulled it as well. Going around unplugging all things Jack said he didn't use, Pitch explained, "The trick is that as long as something's plugged in you're still using the electricity… That's how they get you… If you just unplug everything, you're not using it, and the owners of the complex can't charge you…"

"Why didn't I think of that?" Jack asked, watching in utter bewilderment.

Pitch chuckled. "Probably because they told you different," he said, smiling back at the younger male, "They like to lie so they can get their money's worth…"

Frowning, Jack rubbed his now growling stomach. Hopping to his feet, he went to his fridge. He remembered the apple pie Pitch had bought for him and he quickly took the slice from within the cold chamber. Jack tossed it into his microwave and waited.

Once it was warm, Jack took it back out to his meager living room and sat back on the couch with Pitch. He pushed a forkful into his mouth and immediately sighed at how incredibly sweet it was.

Licking his lips, Jack grumbled, "Okay, I admit- I do appreciate the pie now…" Pitch laughed and said 'I told you so'. Biting down another fork of the sweet fruity treat, Jack offered one to Pitch, saying with a full mouth, "Wan' some?"

"No, it's yours," Pitch said, holding up a hand, "I don't want to take any from you…"

"Aw, come on! I's really good!" Jack whined, moving the food closer to Pitch's face. The older man sighed in defeat and opened his mouth. Jack grinned as Pitch's lips closed around the fork.

"Good right?" he asked, taking the silverware back and eating more. Pitch nodded with a soft smile and the tiniest hint of a blush.

"You're not going to wash that or get a new one?" he asked, motioning to the fork in Jack's mouth.

Grinning, Jack asked, "Why, you got cooties or sumfin?" Pitch smirked at him and Jack just resumed eating. It had been a long time since he had eaten this well. Jack loved it: feeling his belly stretch with warm food.

Patting his now bloated stomach, Jack burped and sighed. "Best breakfast I've had all month," he said with a smile.

"I should be going," Pitch said, getting to his feet, "I've got to head back to work…" Jack pouted up at him, so Pitch stuck his tongue out in response. Jack frowned and quickly did the same.

"You're so childish sometimes," Pitch said with a chuckle.

"This coming from the one who did it first!" Jack argued with a playful grin. Pitch shook his head.

Sitting up, Jack asked, "I'm gonna come with you today, right…? I've got a lot of work to make up, after all…" Pitch rolled his eyes and let Jack tag along. He refused to let Jack wreck his house, though- he jokingly told him he'd get his cooties all over his stuff.

When Pitch came back in his new clothes, he drove them to the funeral house. Jack hurried to his wall, and felt a pang of guilt seeing how far along Tia and Sandy were compared to him. So he set right to work, rolling up his sleeves and gritting his teeth in determination. He told himself right there, "No drugs today. Just work, work, work."

And two hours later, when his friends came in, he left the speechless with how beautiful his mural was. The angel looked like she was made of light and clouds. And it seemed like you could really reach out and touch her.

"Wow…" was all Sandy could think to say. Jack grinned proudly, putting his pant stained hands on his hips and thus staining his shirt.

The two went to work on their own walls- neither one mentioning what they now knew- and Jack resumed his painting. Eventually, he asked Tia to play her iPod so they'd have music to work to. She didn't have much that they'd all like, but once she found a song with a fast, light beat, Jack found himself able to work even faster.

He danced a little with the music, running his brush with each base hit. He felt fantastic today! He felt so great! And he felt so perfectly normal! He could just kiss the wall!

"You're looking better today, Jack," Pitch teased, watching the boy bounce around on his stepping stool.

Jack grinned back at him, shouting, "I feel awesome!" And he returned to painting musically. Pitch laughed and shook his head, watching the boy a bit longer before returning to his work.

At the end of the day, Jack hadn't needed to stop for another fix once; Pitch told them they wouldn't be able to come tomorrow. There would be a funeral service and only the grieving family and other onlookers would be able to come.

Taking his black bag that held all his paints and brushes, Jack smiled brightly at Pitch.

"See ya later?" he asked hopefully.

Smirking, Pitch said, "Maybe. Depends if I feel up to having to look at your ugly face again…" Jack pouted at him.

"Thanks for that- think I'll go kill myself now…" he grumbled. Pitch blinked worried yellow eyes, grabbing hold of Jack's arm.

"No, Jack, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Smiling widely, Jack cooed, "Aw, you do care…" Pitch frowned at him angrily. "That's okay," Jack said, pulling his arm free, "I care about you too, ya old fart, you…" Pitch frowned again.

Jack leaned forward and stole a quick kiss to Pitch's lips. Blinking in surprise, Pitch didn't react until Jack had pulled away.

"Really startin to fall for ya," Jack said, smiling warmly at Pitch with a little blush.

Staring at the blonde in surprise, Pitch pulled Jack back to him, kissing him softly. Pulling his lips away, Pitch whispered, "I'll take care of you until you get through this addiction… I promise…" Jack smiled.

"I know you will…" he said, "You haven't let me down yet…" Jack ruffled the black hair and left with a happy smile.

**And there was the BlackIce part… Sorry to those who aren't fans of it…**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Lol. This is apparently a scary idea to many. Jack Frost as a drug addict. Yeah, I know, I think up some weird sh… I will bleep the rest… Anyway, I understand it's not how most want to view Jackie, but it's how I saw him for a spilt second when I listened to "The A Team". And that split second inspired all this madness…**_

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes Seven?**_

Pitch had shown up at Jack's house that night, to the pale haired man's delight. He spent most of the night snuggled up against his warm chest. Pitch was now his official security blanket. Every time he was around Jack felt so safe.

The conversation had turned to Jack's addiction at one point, and currently Jack said, "Yeah, that party where I first tried it was in like… tenth grade or something… I've been stuck like this for a long time…" Pitch whispered a soft apology, ruffling his white locks tenderly, but Jack only said it wasn't his fault.

"You're trying to help me stop it, remember?" Jack pointed out with a soft smile. Pitch smiled back and held Jack closer, pulling a blanket up around the thinner male's shoulders. Jack could stay like this forever: safe, warm, drug-free, happy… He never wanted reality to break him from this new peace.

As they sat together, Pitch occasionally looking up at the black screen of Jack's unused television, Jack mumbled, "You know, for being a scary funeral man, you're not so bad…"

Smirking down at him, Pitch retorted, "And for a drug-addicted painter, you're not too crazy yourself." Jack pouted, but a soft kiss to his forehead made that pout turn into a smile.

"It's been a long time since I've been this happy… Or this sober," Jack commented, hugging Pitch tight to him.

"Glad I could help," Pitch said, rubbing his head again. And after that they just sat in silence, holding each other and keeping each other safe.

As Jack went through the day the next morning, he found that just having spent the night with Pitch had cheered him up. His whole morning had been a happy one, completely free of his drugs. He had gone an entire twenty four hours now without a fix, and he felt like a new man. When he woke Pitch up (still in his bed) he told him so with pride. Pitch had congratulated him earnestly before flopping back down onto the bed and asking if he could sleep for five more minutes. Jack's response had been climbing up and lying on top of him- squishing him entirely.

When Pitch had grumbled and rolled him off, Jack had laughed for a good five minutes straight. Rubbing his fingers together, Jack was finally able to say that they felt warm. For the first time in a long time his fingers were warm all by themselves.

He was sitting by himself on his couch now, sipping some hot chocolate. He wished that he could go spend the day with Pitch again, but he had been specific about no one interrupting this funeral service. The calling hours were important- and Jack could respect that.

So he sat and stared aimlessly at his dead TV. Drinking that wonderfully warm chocolatey drink. Pitch had given Jack some money to go out and buy food, and though he would have been perfectly fine just living off of hot cocoa, Jack knew he'd need some more substantial food than what he currently had. He waited a few more hours before he decided he may as well head out- he was feeling up to just about anything.

He went through aisle after aisle, occasionally meeting up with someone he knew but hadn't seen in years, thanks to his addiction, and reconnecting with some old friends. As he browsed, Jack found a teddy bear that had the name Sophie sewn across the stomach- immediately he swallowed and picked it up. He stared at the name with tears in his eyes; when was Sophie's funeral going to be?

As he gazed at the bear, he decided he would buy it and give it to Jamie, as a consolation and pity present. He set it on the child seat of his little shopping cart and would look down at it every now and then while he walked.

He went and began checking out. To his fear, Jack saw that as he handed his cashier the money, his hands were beginning to shake. It only frightened him worse when he visibly saw his sweat dripping off of him. The cashier was looking at him like he was a walking dead person. Thanking her, he hurried out of the store and back to his car. He practically threw the bags back into the trunk of his car before rushing to the front and turning the heat on full blast. He rubbed his hands together desperately, and once he warmed back up, he was able to relax. The shaking subsided and he smiled to himself.

None of what he had bought needed to be refrigerated right away- Jack decided he wanted to drive around town and see the sights a little. At least for a few minutes- he wanted to see if he had missed anything big.

He saw a few teens painting a wall, illegally he might add, a few random old people doing old people things, some new flower shops, and a new bakery, but other than that, nothing much had changed. He went back home, unloaded all his groceries, and quickly heated up his leftover mac n cheese.

Eating it with a big grin, Jack decided he might hit up that bakery with the money left over from Pitch. He felt like buying himself a cupcake or something like that. Actually, maybe a muffin… Or a brownie… Or a cookie or a biscuit. He didn't know, but he wanted something sweet.

"Yeah, can I have two of those red velvet cupcakes?" Jack asked, pointing at them for the young girl taking his order. He smiled brightly when she blushed at him; apparently she thought his hollow, skinny face was attractive.

The front door behind him opened for a long while as a throng of customers coming to try the food too, letting a chilling breeze come in and run through his bones. Swallowing, he tried to ignore the fact that the chill was lingering even after the door closed.

"Here you are, sir," the girl said, holding out the brown bag. Jack reached his hand forward to take it, biting back the motion noticing his arm was shaking. Rubbing his forearm fiercely, Jack smiled weakly at the confused girl.

"Sorry," he whispered, "just… cold…" He lied openly to her face, but she only smiled and gave him his pastries. He took them quickly, leaving and hurrying to the closest parking lot that he had found where his car waited. Every other lot closer was completely full of people who couldn't park to save their lives.

It was nearly three blocks away. Jack bit back a sob when he stumbled and toppled into the wall of a building, ignoring people who asked if he was okay. He hurried over a grassy empty patch of land that was a park and finally made it to his parking lot.

But he was a lot worse now. He couldn't take three steps without slipping over himself. He must've fallen on at least six cars. And when he was about thirteen feet from his car, he tripped over himself and fell to the ground. The bag fell and the cupcakes spilled out onto the pavement, but al Jack could feel was the stabbing pain in his elbows and knees which had made contact with the ground first. It felt like his bones had broken it hurt so terribly. And it was then that Jack wished he had worn a big fluffy sweater, because now not only were his elbows scraped up, but he could see goose bumps across his flesh.

Pushing back up to his shaky legs, Jack fumbled into the front seat of his car. Instinctively he began fumbling around for a bag he would normally have had tucked under the passenger seat. When he felt the plastic, his eyes went wide at the empty feel of it. Pulling it out, sure enough, there were barely a few specs of white powder in the bag. Swallowing again, and suddenly finding himself choking on that swallow, Jack threw the bag away and cried.

Yanking out his keys, Jack dropped them as his head fell back into the head cushion and he began having a miniature seizure. Nearly two days with no drugs had taken its toll. Jack's current relapse was especially violent. As his head slammed into the cushion and his back and arms flailed, Jack gasped and gagged at the feeling of his eyes rolling back in his head. The keys had fallen to the floor of the car near his feet as the convulsions took over his body.

He raised a trembling, shuddering arm up to his mouth and bit down hard on his skin. As the crimson water ran down and dripped onto his pants, Jack felt his body quickly calming down at the sudden realization that there was other pain. More serious pain that was causing him to lose his life juice.

The shaking subsided slightly, and Jack managed to pull out his phone. He hit his number 1 speed dial and prayed that he wouldn't get voice mail.

His arms were beginning to shake more violently once again, and Jack bit his lip until he felt it beginning to bleed as well. But his shaking didn't halt- he just kept shuddering and flinching as his body began to shut down.

He got the voice mail. Sobbing rather high pitched, Jack called again. He got voice mail again, but he needed help. He called for a third time. Finally, the line picked up on the third ring.

"Jack, what's wrong? I told you, I'm at the fu-" Pitch answered, whispering as quietly as he could, but Jack cut him off with a loud sob of relief at just hearing his voice. Pitch stopped.

"Jack, what's wrong?" the tone in his voice changed instantly. It sounded like he was clutching the phone with both hands. "Jack? Jack, answer me, are you alright?"

Gasping and choking, Jack suddenly found himself unable to make words. He tried three times, Pitch sounding more and more concerned each time he heard Jack gurgle. Finally Jack was able to spit out a few raspy, weak, breathless words. "I can't breathe-!" He tried to inhale deeper, but only managed to get a tiny wheeze in his lungs.

Pitch gasped on the other line. "Jack, have you taken another does? Jack, you can't fight this like that!"

Failing to swallow again, Jack gasped and whimpered, "I thought I'd be okay…" Sobbing again, feeling hot tears rolling down his cheeks, Jack begged Pitch to help him.

"Jack," Pitch paused, as a noise in the background made itself evident, "Jack, please, please. I- I can't just… Jack…" Jack dropped the phone as he began convulsing again. He could barely hear Pitch over the gurgling and gasping sounds he was making. He remembered feeling like this at rehab. This had happened to him three times in one night when the doctors first took his drugs from him. But those times he had passed out by now.

It made it worse with the fact that he could feel his body giving up on him with each passing second. A burning pain suddenly lit within his lungs, and Jack screamed. Pitch shouted his name over the phone.

"Jack, hold on! I'll be right there! Please, you're gonna be okay- just; just tell me where you are!" Pitch begged, sounding like he was crying, "Jack, talk to me! Please, talk to me!"

"I-" Jack gasped and grunted at that burning pain in his lungs with each breath in, "N-ner… n-new, ggck- Bak-kery!" He managed to tell Pitch that much before he felt his eyes rolling back again and saliva running down his face.

The last thing he was able to hear was the sounds of himself dying and Pitch' voice telling him he would be there soon.

"Just hold on, Jack! Hold on!"

When the big blue eyes blinked open again, Jack wasn't sure if he was alive or dead. Taking in the deepest breath possible, all Jack could smell and taste was blood. He knew he had vomited up blood while he was unconscious- he had done that in rehab…

He lay there for a few seconds before he suddenly registered the sound of his side door opening. His eyes rolling slowly to his left, Jack saw Pitch standing there, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

The older man quickly pulled Jack up into his arms. He whispered over and over again that he was sorry, but Jack felt nothing but joy at knowing he was there now. He lifted trembling, weak arms and hugged Pitch as tightly as he could.

"I l…l. I love you," Jack choked against the traces of blood still in his mouth. Pitch didn't respond, he was too busy lifting Jack into his nice warm car and taking them to Jack's apartment. He had barely even heard Jack say it- he couldn't afford to waste any time. Jack was in a critical state right now.

Speeding down the streets, Pitch said, holding Jack's hand in his right, "Hang on Jack, we'll be there soon, just hang on… Hang on…"

Jack's eyes felt heavy. It was so warm. He could sleep here and never wake up. With Pitch holding him and talking to him his mind was happy.

Smiling blissfully, Jack whispered, "I love you," once more.

"I love you Jack, don't you dare die on me," Pitch said as gently as he could, "Don't you dare die on me. I'll have to run your funeral. Don't you dare die." Jack smiled and let his eyes fall shut- becoming numb to the world.

_**Well, that was fun… Sort of based-ish off a review request by Jackson O. Frost… Sort of… I didn't exactly follow their wish list, but whatever…**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes Eight**_

When Jack finally woke back up, he was in his apartment, Pitch holding him tight in his arms. Groaning with pain, Jack said the older man's name.

Pitch quickly kissed Jack's cheek and said, "Thank goodness you're alright!" Jack smiled softly at that and asked if he could hug a little less tightly- it was hurting him.

The older male sat back and looked at Jack. The big blue eyes looked around for a moment before Jack asked, "Where're the drugs…?" He still felt awful. He knew if he didn't get a fix soon he'd start having another seizure. Pitch got to his feet and brought Jack's bag. They worked together to get a good amount for Jack and he inhaled it deeply.

Falling back into Pitch's arms, Jack mumbled, "Sorry I made you leave the funeral service…" Looking up at him, he whispered, "I tried…"

The black haired man sighed and said with a tender smile, "It's okay… You were more important…" Jack apologized again anyway. "It was more important to care for someone who was dying than someone already dead… But… I do have to go back…"

"I wanna go with you…" Jack muttered. Pitch began arguing with him that he couldn't, but Jack simply said, "I could tell people why you left…" Rubbing his forehead, Jack muttered, "Be the visual…. Hey, Pitch, is my car still back at the parking lot?"

"Yes," he replied, "But I took the keys, so we can get it later…" Jack nodded and got up to head with Pitch back to the funeral house.

Walking in was incredibly uncomfortable, especially when people saw all the blood on Jack's face: he never bothered to wipe it up.

One young man, looked to be in his thirties, had approached Pitch and hissed darkly at him, "What kind of service are you running here? Do you know how rude it is to leave like that? You're a disgusting, insensitive,"

Jack quickly stepped forward, scowling at the man, and he growled, "He came to help me…"

The man jumped away in shock. "What happened to your face?" he asked in a whisper.

Jutting out his jaw, Jack replied coldly, "I was having a seizure. I called Pitch because I was scared." The man said nothing else after that. But apparently the word about the boy with the blood all over his chin having been the reason Pitch left spread. An old woman asked him if he was alright. Jack found out she was a widow, but she was worried about him.

Jack said he was okay and thanked her. After the calling hours finished, Jack walked with Pitch to see everyone out. The actual burial wouldn't be for three days, but this was the last time to see the body.

Standing near Pitch, Jack stared back at his unfinished mural. He felt an arm snake its way around his shoulders, and he relaxed into Pitch's embrace.

"Don't you ever have nightmares…? Or get sick…?" Jack asked him, "I mean… Working when you're constantly surrounded by death… Doesn't that bother you…?"

Pitch caressed Jack's shoulder lovingly as they stood there, looking at his painting. "Yes," he said after a moment of pause. "But it's not the bodies that affect me… It's the living… The ones who have to grieve for the rest of their lives… One can see only so many broken hearts before they go mad… at least a little…"

Smiling softly, Jack said, "Well you've definitely gone mad." Pitch only squeezed his shoulder gently.

"I'm sorry…" he said, looking into the face of his angel, "I'm sorry I've caused you all this pain…"

Pitch sighed and rested his head upon Jack's shoulder. "It isn't your fault, Jack," he whispered, "You never chose this…"

The two stood there in silence for a good long while. Pitch shut everything down for the night, going back to Jack and offering to go with him to get his car.

"I don't think I wanna be alone tonight…" Jack whispered, his eyes falling to Pitch's face. The older male nodded.

"You don't have to be, Jack," he said, "I'll be with you…" Jack smiled at him and they drove back to the parking lot. Jack got to his car, but didn't want to drive it back because it was cold inside. Pitch offered, and Jack was able to drive the nice warm car that belonged to Pitch back to his apartment.

**Short chapter…. Oh well….. HUNGRYYYYYYY…..**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes – Nine**_

Jack had snuggled up close to Pitch while he slept. It was probably a reflex- he never was able to keep warm before, and having something so warm right next to him was irresistible even in sleep. Pitch didn't mind having his chest used as a pillow- so long as Jack didn't relapse again he was content.

His alarm buzzed loudly and made Jack groan in annoyance. "Whyyyyy…?" he grumbled, stretching his tired arm out toward the digital clock. He missed it twice.

Sitting up after it clicked off, Jack rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Stupid thing," he muttered.

"Well if it weren't there how else would you wake up?" Pitch asked teasingly. Jack mumbled something about sunlight, but then he remembered that his bedroom had no windows. He lost his train of thought after that.

Jack desperately needed a shower: he felt like he still reeked of blood and vomit. As he stepped out of the steamy room, Pitch called from the couch, "Mail's here…"

"Anything good?" Jack asked, walking out to look at him. Pitch shook his head.

"Just bills and junk mail, really," he replied, showing him an advertisement on one of his envelopes. Victoria's Secret… "I take it you need this one, yes?"

"Yup," Jack replied, taking hold of the envelope with a half-naked woman on it, "Always need new panties…" Pitch laughed at that and Jack tossed the letter in the trash. "You'd think they'd check to see if they're sending it to a man or woman…"

Pitch got up and handed Jack the last of his mail, saying with a smile, "They do. They probably assumed you were a pervert who enjoyed staring at women's boobs…" Jack frowned at him, but Pitch ruffled his hair and said he was kidding.

"Wasn't funny," Jack grumbled, tossing more envelopes away. He opened his bill and grinned at seeing how much the bill had dropped. All his electrical had plummeted. With a big grin, he pointed it out to Pitch- the taller man smirked and said 'I told you so'.

"Wow, this'll save me tons of money," Jack said, still smiling dopily, "I could actually afford more food, now…" Pitch smiled and rubbed his back fondly.

"You really should get dressed," he told him.

Jack shrugged, "Nah… Maybe I'll just go around in a towel toga all day…" Pitch smirked at him and proceeded to tear the towel away. Jack squeaked at the chill on his wet legs and he tried to grab the fabric back.

"Go get dressed," Pitch simply said, holding the towel up out of reach, "You silly little crackhead…" Again, Jack told him that wasn't funny. But, he did as he was told and went to put on clothes. He chose a sweater today with big pockets.

He actually ate some breakfast that morning- still unusual for him- and happily shared mean jokes with Pitch the entire car ride to the funeral home. He went right to work painting his mural when he arrived; making sure his bag of white powder was tucked into his sweater pocket.

Hours after the others arrived, Pitch came out, offering them a break and something to eat or drink. Tia and Sandy accepted happily, Jack remained, saying he wanted to add finishing touches to the angel's wings. That was two hours ago…

"Jack, get your ass down and come eat something," Pitch called from the bottom of the ladder, kicking it lightly and making Jack jump in surprise.

The blue eyed male looked down at him and said, "Wait, just one more feather!"

"You said that ages ago," Pitch said, "Get down before I kick you down." Jack groaned loudly, but slowly climbed down the ladder. He called Pitch a grouchy funeral director and went into the other room with the others.

Sandy and Tooth had finished their food a while ago, but they had been waiting for Jack to join them, so they remained sitting. When he came in they smiled brightly, and Sandy patted the couch next to him.

Munching on his lunch, Jack said, "Pitch, you didn't have to do this…"

The black haired man shrugged, saying, "You've all been working so hard… I thought I might repay you a little before you receive your full payment for the job when it's done…" Jack frowned a little hearing that. He had forgotten that this was a job and not just hanging out and having fun with Pitch. What would happen after he finished the work? Would Jack not get to see Pitch at all? The thought made him sad.

"I'll be allowed to come visit, though, right?" Jack asked, giving Pitch a pleading look.

"Of course," he replied, smiling, "Why wouldn't you be?" Jack grinned and returned to his food.

Once he had finished, everyone went out to continue their paintings. By the time Pitch told them they needed to leave, Jack had moved from the angel down to the skeletal figures below her. Though his hands trembled as he painted, he continued. He found that the random, messy, sloppy brushstrokes made them look more disheveled and needy. The inaccurate lines he painted gave them an inhuman look to them in some ways, and a frayed look overall. He rather liked the way they looked and didn't want to stop painting them like that just yet.

He knew what the trembling meant. That's why he told the others to go ahead without him. He wanted to finish this last bit off. And when Pitch came over he told him he'd be needing another does soon.

Pitch was impressed by how comfortable Jack sounded with that fact. He wasn't fighting the fact that he needed it… Well, he was, but not nearly as much as the last few times…

"I'm proud of you for saying it," Pitch whispered, rubbing Jack's shoulder blades gently, watching as his elbows began to shiver. Jack smiled back at him and kept painting through the shivers. When he finally finished the man he had painted, he pulled out the bag and poured a small amount into his hand.

Pitch reached forward and took a pinch away from what Jack had, saying softly, "Let's see if we can keep weaning you off it, kay?" Jack nodded and inhaled against his palm.

He allowed the effects to slowly take in, and then he turned to look at Pitch. The man smiled a little, truthfully he was holding back laughter, and he carefully wiped the powder away from Jack's nose and lips. It looked like he had just pigged out on a powdered donut. (Adorable, yes, but messy.)

After a short while they had left, Jack riding in Pitch's car back to his little apartment. Once they got to the door, Jack spoke to Pitch though he faced the door, unlocking it, "Pitch, did I tell you how happy I am that I met you…?"

Pitch chuckled lightly and replied, "All the time, Jack…" And they stepped inside.

**That moment when you get a Facebook friend request and the person has like 50 mutual friends but you have no idea who they are…**

**Yeah… Just had that…**

**WHO ARE YOU whoever you are? 0.0 Why do my friends know you, but not me? **


	10. Chapter 10

**Heehee. I actually got a personal Message request to update this one. :) **

**EXCELLENT. Sometimes I forget that I'm not just writing for me… Occasionally I see review notices and go, "Wait, other people read my crap?" Hahaha. Always brings a smile to my face.**

_**Breathing in the Snowflakes –Ten**_

Jack moaned softly as Pitch massaged his shoulders. Apparently they were incredibly stiff from painting so high up with no arm support. It was nice to have someone paying attention to him.

"You know, you're going to have to tell the others, Jack," Pitch whispered, rotating his thumbs into the base of Jack's shoulder blades. The smaller male sighed at the pop sound they made.

But Jack quickly pouted. "Would you stop?" he grumbled, "I don't wanna think about that right now…"

"You have to think about it," Pitch said more sternly, pressing deep into Jack's shoulders, "Just because you've been hiding it doesn't mean you can keep hiding it…"

The blue eyed male groaned, pushing himself away from Pitch and walking over to another spot in his apartment. He faced away from the funeral director, scowling down the hallway toward his kitchen. Pitch couldn't see it, but tears dangled at the corners of Jack's eyes. It hurt him to have to lie to his friends. He wanted to tell them, he was just so scared…

"Jack…" Pitch whispered his name, coming up behind him and rubbing his shoulders again.

Letting out a tense breath, Jack asked, "What happened… when you told your friends…? How did they react…?"

Resting his chin on the boy's shoulder, Pitch hummed softly. "Well, at first they were disappointed in me… But they had known… I told you, remember…? They were the ones who told me that I hurt myself while I was on a high…"

Jack didn't speak. He just stood there, tears continually hanging in his vision. "What happened…?" he whispered.

Pitch sighed. "I saw a doctor…" he said, "I got professional help… And my friends supported me through it…" He could tell Jack still didn't really want to talk about this. Kissing his neck, he whispered, "I'm not saying you have to tell them tonight… Just… Soon…"

Jack nodded, lifting his sleeve up to wipe the tears away. The two simply stood that way for a while- and Jack was grateful for it. Pitch pushed him, but he never pushed too hard… Lies were difficult for him. He just… needed to think of how to go about telling Tia and Sandy…

Pitch took hold of one of Jack's hands. He tugged on it, pulling the younger toward the front door. He smiled at Jack's confused pout.

"Come on, sad sack," he said, "How 'bout we go somewhere…?" Jack frowned and began dragging his feet. They squeaked on his wood floor. Sighing, Pitch came up and hugged Jack.

"How 'bout that restaurant?" he asked, ruffling the white locks of hair, "You liked that place right?"

Jack blushed. He had really liked that place… It had been so warm there… Glancing up at Pitch, he grumbled, "Okay, but only if we get the same booth…" Pitch grinned down at him and they walked out together.

Jack sighed in his seat. Not the exact booth, but there was a heating vent right above him again.

"Happy?" Pitch asked, watching Jack snuggled into the cushion.

Peeking one eye open, Jack said, "It's not the same booth…"

"I'm not a miracle worker, Jack," Pitch said, smirking at him across the table.

"So you lied to me," Jack said, chuckling at Pitch's unhappy pout. "You're adorable when you're mad… You look like an angry puppy…"

Pitch rolled his eyes. They ate, Jack happily stuffing his face again. He didn't even mind when Pitch laughed at his messy face. He was just really happy to be there.

Once they had left, Jack remembered something he had bought that was in his apartment. "Can we go back and get it?" he asked.

"Get what?" Pitch asked. Jack only laughed and pranced over to the car. Pitch looked confused, but he drove them back anyway. Jack told him to wait in the car.

"Why? What's going on?" he asked, laughing at how happy Jack seemed. Jack only hummed and hurried inside. He came back out with a little teddy bear.

"Drive," Jack ordered, waving his hands toward the window, "C'mon, drive the car!"

Pitch laughed. "Jack, what is that? What's this all about?" Jack only grinned and told him to drive again. Pitch gave up, shaking his head and driving the car out of the lot. Jack pointed to streets, telling him when and where to turn, laughing whenever Pitch asked where they were going.

They parked in front of a large red house. Pitch was really confused now.

Turning toward him, Jack said in a whisper, completely serious now, "Okay, this is really important to me… I'm giving a sick little girl a present… Alright…?"

"You… wha…?" Pitch didn't understand.

"Can you just walk with me and try not to stare?" Pitch nodded slowly, and Jack smiled at him. He even kissed his nose. Pitch really wished he knew what was going on right now.

They walked to the front door, Jack rang the doorbell. An older woman with brown hair came to the door. She smiled at Jack when she saw him and then called to Jamie. She nodded silently at Pitch, who nodded back, and then a shorter brown haired boy came to the door. He looked to be in his early teens. He grinned when he saw Jack and hugged him tight.

Walking inside, Pitch smiled at an old looking greyhound sitting on the couch. She glanced up at him and then snuggled down to sleep. Jack and Pitch walked with Jamie to a room with a brown door. They pushed it open and Pitch blinked seeing a small girl with a few straggly tufts of blonde hair sitting in a bed by herself. She smiled up at them, giggling seeing Jack.

"Jackie!" she said. Jack hurried to the bedside, greeting her with a hug and showing her the bear. She smiled brightly at it and took it into her arms.

"Thanks, Jack," she said, smiling up at him. Jack smiled back.

Pitch glanced nervously about the room, smiling when he noticed the pirate ship painted on the wall. Jack's handiwork, no doubt.

Pitch turned his attention back to the conversation Jack and the girl were having.

"Am I gonna get better, Jack?" she asked.

Jack swallowed, but quickly rubbed her shoulders. "Yeah," he replied, "Yeah, of course you are… You've got your mom and Jamie here to take care of you, Soph… You're gonna be fine…" Pitch smiled hearing the tender voice Jack gave her.

They remained there for a while longer before Jack kissed her forehead and left with Pitch. When they got back to the car, Pitch said, "That was very brave of you, Jack…"

Wiping away tears, Jack whispered, "Every time I see her she looks worse… Every time… I… She's going to die, Pitch… I can feel it… Every time I think about her… I see her lying in a casket…"

Now he was sobbing, wiping the bottoms of his palms across his eyes. Pitch quickly jumped forward and pulled Jack into his arms, lulling him and hushing him. "It's alright, Jack, it's alright… There's nothing you can do…" he whispered, stroking the top of his head, "This is something she has to fight through on her own…"

Sniffling softly, Jack whimpered, "You talkin about Sophie or me?" Pitch smiled and kissed his head. He held him close, just waiting until Jack calmed down. He could wait. He had to be patient with Jack. He could wait…


	11. Chapter 11

**I feel like there was something important about this, but I forgot what it was…. Meh… Oh well… I'm sure I'll remember it later…**

**Breathing In the Snowflakes – Chapter Eleven**

Jack was in the little room with the couch at the funeral home. Pitch had an arm around his shoulder and one hand held out in front of Jack. The two were measuring out how much Jack needed for his dose today. He was beginning to tremble, and the chill had already set in. If he waited too long it'd get worse.

Pitch smiled. "Look," he said, pointing out how little Jack actually needed, "That's less than half the amount you were taking when we first met," he told him. He squeezed Jack's shoulder. "You're doing so well. I'm proud of you, Jack…"

He smiled at the older man before inhaling the white powder and shivering, falling back into the cushions of the couch. Pitch held him there, allowing him time to rest, before he stood and began opening the place up, turning lights on, and such. Jack watched him from the doorway, once he actually got up… Pitch stopped at his mural on the wall, and Jack couldn't resist coming up and joining him.

"It's almost done," he said, standing beside Pitch, "Probably will only need today and it'll be finished…"

Pitch chuckled. "You don't sound too happy about that," he said, noticing the heaviness to Jack's words.

"Well, yeah I'm not happy," he grumbled, folding his arms over his chest and pouting up at the painting, "Once it's done I won't be able to spend the whole day with you… I'll be off somewhere else painting for some random person…" Pitch laughed and rubbed Jack's back softly.

"I was some random person before all of this, too, Jack," he said, smiling. Jack frowned at him. "You and I will still see each other, don't worry. I'll keep coming and bothering you at that tiny little thing you call an apartment and you'll keep pestering me here when you have free days."

Jack grinned. "You know it!" he said, looking back to the painting. He stood there, looking at the painting for a while longer, furrowing his brow as he contemplated the angel's face. She looked oddly familiar. When it hit him, he started laughing, confusing poor Pitch thoroughly. Pointing up at her, Jack said, "She looks like you."

Pitch blinked, placed his hands on his hips, and stared up at the painted woman. He frowned, squinting his eyes as he tried to see where it looked like him. "I'm not seeing it," he said. Jack laughed again and pointed.

"Her face," he said, "She has your face…!" Still Pitch scowled.

"I still don't see the resemblance," he said, Jack just laughed and said it was because he was old.

Sandy and Tia arrived a short while later, and both asked Jack if he was excited for the last day. They obviously were- they were happy to be able to say they had another finished project under their belts. Jack was too, but he was definitely going to miss having Pitch as his constant security blanket. Now if he got scared, or waited a little too long for a dose he'd have to rely only on himself.

He mentioned that to Pitch in a whisper. Pitch smiled. "It'll be good for you," he said, "You need a chance to gain back some stability of self… I'll still be here if you really need me, though." Jack smiled at him and went to work painting.

It took the rest of the day, but once it was closing time, Jack was actually very proud to say he had finished. Everyone had. And it was fantastic. Sandy's painting was of a woman at a grave, looking as though she were asleep, and a specter female is snuggled up beside her, holding her while she rests. It had a lot of sentiment and Jack smiled at how sweet it was. Tia's was a painting of a man in a tuxedo and a woman. Both were very old, and they were wearing wedding garb, but standing before a coffin. But they both looked happy and accepting, and it was touching. Jack's angel felt out of place, but she somehow fit in with their works as an odd family.

Looking at Pitch, Jack smiled and quickly hugged him. They had to head back to their boss's building, and Jack wouldn't be able to see Pitch until he went back home afterwards.

"Bye," he whispered, squeezing around his neck affectionately, "See you later." Pitch returned the farewell, and the trio left him to lock up.

**No, this isn't the ending. It won't end until Jack is completely off the drugs…**

**You know what I just read the other night? An article about Chris Pine telling why drugs- like cocaine and such- didn't ever interest him. And when I read that I was just like, "Ooohhh, weeeellll…. I kinda…. Yeeeeaaaahhh….."**

**IT WAS TOO COINCIDENTALLY PERFECT TO NOT TELL YOU.**


	12. Chapter 12

_**Slept til noon this morning. It was great… After two days on a bus, sleep is a wonderful thing… Ugh… Darn you trip to Cleveland. Why did you make me so tired? It wasn't even nine-thirty and I felt like I was gonna pass out!**_

_**Breathing In The Snowflakes – Chapter Twelve**_ (Was I supposed to be doing something? I forget…)

Back at work with the others, Jack groaned as he tried to gather up the photographs he had just dropped on the floor. Tia had handed them to him and he had been in another world. It was pretty stupid; actually, he had been fascinated by a pink bush in the corner of the room. He hadn't recognized it, and therefore, his focus was completely on why its leaves were bright pink.

Sandy chuckled lightly at him, Tia sighed a little, but smiled, and Jack pouted up at them. "Oh, shut up, I was thinking," he said to them, picking up the last one and handing them back to Tia. "If I did such a poor job, then you hold 'em."

She laughed and took them back. "I was offering so you could get to look at them one last time before we give 'em to North," she said. Jack shrugged his shoulders and the three walked back into the office they hadn't been in for almost two weeks.

North looked up from his coffee when they came in, smiling warmly at his employees. "How'd it go?" he asked. Tia handed him the pictures and he smiled brightly at them. "Excellent," he said.

Everyone got paid and they all talked for a while longer, North's assistant Aster walking in halfway through to join in. For the first time that Jack could ever remember, he actually heard him laugh. The guy had seemed like such a stuff-shirt…!

Jack was happy to leave- he wanted nothing more at the moment than to lie down and snuggle into a blanket. He forgot that he didn't bring his car today- he had driven with Pitch first thing that morning. Oh well, his apartment wasn't too far away, he could walk. He usually did anyhow.

When he got back, he frowned at remembering Pitch wasn't automatically there. He had to call him and let him know he was home. The calling was okay- it was the waiting for him to get there that sucked. He wanted Pitch to be home right when he got home- that way he wouldn't have to worry for a second that he was going to relapse without him.

When his doorbell went off, Jack groaned loudly and threw the door open. "It's unlocked, you know," he said, "I was expecting you to show up! You didn't have to ring!"

Pitch only smiled at him. "Who spit in your pudding?" he asked, ruffling the white blonde bangs.

"You did," Jack replied, "When you weren't here fast enough."

The funeral director laughed and ruffled his hair again. "I don't think I could do anything if I wasn't here," he said. Jack told him to shut up and stop being logical. "It's not my fault someone's grumpy," Pitch said, walking inside and giving Jack a quick hug.

Sitting on his couch, Pitch asked, "So, how did the meeting with the boss go? No complaints?"

"Nah, not really," Jack replied, joining him on the cushions, "In fact we all kinda joked for a while."

"Didn't get any urges for your drug, I'm guessing?" he asked. Jack shook his head with a small smile. "Good."

The two sat together a while longer, Jack just happy to have someone to snuggle with, before Pitch asked if Jack was hungry. "Are you asking me out again?" he asked, chuckling lightly.

"You said you liked that restaurant," Pitch grumbled, pouting at him, "Were you lying to make me feel better?"

"Nah, nah," Jack said, patting his forehead, "I liked that place. It's really warm there!" He kept patting Pitch's forehead, now with both hands, and he chortled happily when Pitch frowned at him. "Your forehead looks so much bigger cuz you don't have eyebrows!" he laughed, basically using his head as a bongo.

Frowning more, Pitch asked, "Are we just going to keep abusing me or are we going to go eat?" Jack kept patting his head. "I'm perfectly comfortable with going on my own. I just happen to actually be hungry."

Jack laughed, letting his hands fall, "Now who's grumpy?!" Pitch told him to shush and he pulled him outside to go eat. The younger man only laughed and fought him every step of the way.

When he was finally seated in a booth right under a heating vent, Pitch scowled at Jack and grumbled, "You're an absolute monster to take anywhere, you know that?"

"Yeah," Jack said, nuzzling against his arm, "But I'm still addicted to drugs, so you'll be nice to me and I won't get in trouble for it." Pitch sighed angrily, looking away. "I'm right, aren't I?" Jack said with a snicker. Pitch only sent him a scowl and Jack said, "I'm right."

"Just be quiet and eat," Pitch said, handing him a menu, "You're lucky I like you…"

"Yeah," Jack said, chuckling next to his ear, "I'm the luckiest nuisance on the planet, right?"

Pitch smirked down at him. "Right."

Jack recognized their waiter as the first one to suggest they were a couple, and he made sure to frown at him until he left. Pitch laughed and called him a spurned child, but ruffled Jack's hair in a way that said he wasn't mad in the slightest, so Jack continued to frown at the waiter.

Sipping his hot cocoa, which Jack had determined was now his favorite thing to drink, Jack said he'd have to go back to North's the next day to see if he had found them a new job. Pitch told him that was a good thing.

"I guess," Jack grumbled, "But if I need to get high on this job it's gonna be more difficult…"

"You'll manage, you little druggie," Pitch said, rubbing his shoulder, "I know you, remember?"

Rolling his eyes, Jack took another sip of his sweet drink. Their waiter brought their food and as they ate, Jack found himself smiling about what Pitch had said.

Finally he stopped and looked at the older man. Pitch smirked, asking, "What?"

"Oh nothing," Jack said, "It's just… Yeah, you do know me… And…" He poked Pitch's nose, smiling brightly, "I'm kinda glad you do…"

**ALL THE FLUFF.**

**When did a drug addicted Jack Frost become so fluffy? Who knows…**


	13. Chapter 13

**Where have I been all these weeks? I don't know… I think it was this horrible place called the real world where only three people I know ship BlackIce and for completely different reasons. It's awful. Never go there you guys. Stay in InternetLandia. The real world is a horrifying place where you get farmer tans from collecting bottles and get stared down by a small dog that wants to eat you. (Trust me.)**

**Breathing In The Snowflakes – Chapter Thirteen**

Jack went back to North's office the next morning, saying a sad goodbye to his new rock, to see if he had a new assignment. Tia had one. Sandy might have one in the next few days, but Jack was told he didn't have anything just yet. He found that pretty disappointing.

"Actually, I think I'd like to have him working on my house," Aster said suddenly, "I'd really like all of them to paint my niece a fresco in her bedroom."

Staring at him in confusion, Jack asked, "You have a niece?" Aster laughed dryly at that and held up the photo he kept on his desk at all times. A little girl with hair the same color as his.

"I've told you about her at least seventy times, Jack," he said, "you forget every single time…"

Furrowing his brow, Jack searched his foggy mind for times when he'd been told that story. There were lots of white spaces where his high made all rational thought an illusion, and those spaces melded with memories. He had no clue… Shrugging his shoulders, he looked back to the accountant man whatever he was.

"So what's the mural gonna be of?" he asked, "Or, fresco, or whatever you said…"

Frowning a little, he said, "I was hoping you could do Easter Eggs with legs… She's always drawing that. I think she'd really like it." Jack smiled- eggs with legs; that was adorable! And it rhymed!

Jack agreed to take the job, Sandy did as well. Tia wanted to, but her new assignment was too big to drop now. So, Aster agreed for them to meet at his house, he handed them the address, the next morning at eight thirty. Jack had whined about it being so early.

Heading out after that, Jack called Pitch's phone and let him know he was done. Pitch wasn't. Jack decided to head over to the funeral house for a visit.

"No, no, I'm at the museum," Pitch said. Jack frowned. He didn't know where that was. He hated museums…. And education… and paying attention… and thinking…

He was told directions and eventually he managed to find the stupid building. Groaning in mild annoyance when the man at the door asked him to pay to come in, Jack tried explaining he was just there to see Pitch. The man laughed when Pitch showed up and scolded him. Apparently they knew each other pretty well… Jack felt kind of like a third wheel.

Walking with Pitch through halls of paintings of famous historical figures, Jack felt sleepier than he had all week. How did people do this? If the painting wasn't colorful or inventive, what was the point in painting it?

"So how's the need been today?" Pitch asked after some time, "Didn't have any more cravings?"

Rolling his shoulder, Jack replied, "Nah, today's been pretty good so far…" Pitch smiled at that. "I got a new job today, too. Aster wants me to do a wall for his niece," he said.

"Glad to hear it," Pitch replied, rubbing Jack's arm fondly, "She'll cherish it forever. It'll be a one-of-a-kind Jack Frost original." Jack beamed proudly at him.

"Maybe the first to not have any drug influence!" he shouted excitedly, bouncing forward and hopping onto a bench.

Pitch laughed as he watched him bound around the museum. "Yes, maybe…"

**AGGGHHH I had lost this file!**

**I HAD MISPLACED ONE OF MY BABIES! NOOOOOOOOOO *flails uncontrollably***

**IT WAS ON THE WRONG LAPTOP! WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING!? NUUUUUUUUUUUU**


	14. Chapter 14

**And now that I've gotten past all the random crap of this morning- hi! Let's get back to a story that I've been neglecting…! (I'm sorry my baby) *strokes the story's hair***

**Breathing In The Snowflakes – Chapter Fourteen**

Jack was enjoying himself in Aster's house. One- because the house was huge. Two- because everything seemed to be decorated by pastel colors, which seemed EXTREMELY girly for the buff looking man. Three- because he was able to paint on the entire wall in his niece's bedroom. Four- because his niece was the cutest thing he had ever seen!

Jack could hardly focus on his work, he was too busy watching the way she bounded around the room like a rabbit, laughing and squealing with delight as her uncle chased after her. He couldn't help but find that adorable in every way. She reminded him of Sophie before she got sick- full of life, full of energy, an unstoppable wrecking ball with legs.

She was too cute. Every time she'd come near him to see how he was painting, he'd play with her and pretend to try and paint her face. At one point he actually got her with a little bit of pink. Sandy wasn't there today- he was throwing up the night before, and didn't want to give whatever bug he had to Aster's niece. So, Jack got her all to himself.

Watching as she hopped off to swing in the backyard, Jack laughed warmly and said, "You've really got your hands full, Aster."

Aster smiled back at him. "I know," he replied, sighing and running his hand through his sweaty hair, "But she's the only family I've got left. So I'll spoil her until she falls asleep every day if I have to."

Jack just smiled at that and returned to painting the legged eggs on the wall. Her room was perfect for the color choices- the wall was a pale yellow, the carpet was grass green, there were pink, purple and blue pillows everywhere, and of course there were flowers and hamsters on every flat surface. Dang, this girl had a lot of hamsters!

Seeing the way they played made Jack incredibly happy, but at the same time, incredibly sad. It reminded him of Sophie too much. He wished she were better. He wanted to see her running around playing with her brother like that again. Sophie deserved to be as happy and healthy as Aster's niece.

He painted until it was time for him to leave. As soon as that was over, Jack began driving to Jamie's house. He was going to see Sophie.

She looked happy to see him. She laughed and pointed out that he had paint on his face, hair, and clothes. Jack was just overjoyed to see that she was still alive. He hugged her and read her stories and played games with her until she fell asleep. She looked so tired. When Jamie came in after that, he smiled softly and watched his sister sleeping.

"I want her hair to grow back," Jack whispered, "More than anything; I want her to look like herself again…"

Jamie laughed emptily, "Yeah… I want her to be the same again…"

Touching Sophie's forehead gently, Jack whispered close to her ear, "Soph, you gotta fight through this," he kissed her cheek, "If I can beat my addiction, then you can kick this cancer easy. Let's both get better together…" He knew Jamie couldn't hear all of what he had said, just parts. That was all fine- what mattered right now was seeing that Sophie was still sleeping peacefully.

He left the house, but sat in his car for a good twenty minutes, just trying to keep himself from crying his eyes out. Maybe he should have called Pitch to take him home- he was always an emotional wreck after he visited the Bennetts.

He managed to drive himself back to his house, tears streaming down his face the whole way, but sane, and he then called Pitch. It took three rings before he answered.

"Heya handsome!" Jack said before Pitch could even say hello, "We're goin to dinner tonight, right?"

Pitch stammered on the other end of the line for a moment or two, making Jack grin, before he replied, "_Was that even a question? What's gotten into you? You sound like a completely different person!_"

Laughing, Jack said, "You're meeting me at our favorite little restaurant tonight at six thirty, got it? We're sitting at our table and you're buying me dessert."

"_Woah, woah, woah, you're actually _initiating_ a public affair? You want to go out in public for once?_" Jack laughed at his jokes.

"You're a jerk," he said, "Just meet me there and maybe I won't have to kick your ass for all the wise-cracks."

"_I'll have to find out why you're so happy so I can make sure you're always like this,_" Pitch said. Jack called him an ass one last time before hanging up with a happy goodbye. It was nice to be able to look forward to something- he hoped that what he said to Sophie would come true. He wanted to see her get better. So, in order for her to get better, he needed to get better. He took a tiny amount of his drug before he started cleaning up his little home. Plugging lamps in, turning them on for the first time in months, cleaning up his room, washing his laundry. Pitch was right. Jack felt changed. And it was awesome!

**Also- NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP! NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi! There's nothing good on TV today… I'm just trying to distract myself from my boredom. Stupid television…**

**Breathing In The Snowflakes – Chapter Fifteen**

Jack was currently sitting with Pitch at the table, continuously kicking his ankles under the table, and smirking every time he looked at him for it. "You really are in a good mood aren't you?" Pitch asked, kicking the nuisance back.

"Ow!" Jack pouted, curling in on himself a little, "I didn't kick you that hard, you meanie!"

Pitch rolled his eyes. "Yes you did, you troublemaker," he argued. Jack stuck his tongue out at him and poked at his menu aimlessly. The waiter sure was taking a long time with their drinks. All they had asked for was iced tea!

Smiling at Jack again, Pitch asked, "So why are you so happy?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Jack mumbled his response. Pitch had to ask him what he said. "I went an' visited Sophie again, that's all…"

"And that made you feel _better_? Last time you were bawling your eyes out!"

Blowing Pitch a raspberry, Jack said, "Oh, shut up! I was happy to go see her again. I made a promise with her…" He muttered the last part on purpose, hoping that Pitch wouldn't hear.

"Promise?" he repeated. (He had heard.) "What sort of promise, Jack?"

Looking down again, Jack said, "Oh… you know… I just… promised that if I beat my addiction… that she'd beat her cancer…" Pitch frowned at him.

"Jack…" he began.

"Look, I know it was stupid and probably not even gonna happen, but it made me feel better, okay?!" he quickly jumped across him, "I wanted something to look forward to! I wanted her to get better!"

"Jack, you know there's no guarantee she'll survive…" Pitch whispered, "And if the worst happens you're setting yourself up for more suffering…" Jack groaned and looked away. Pitch reached a hand out and took hold of Jack's. "I had to save you from yourself once Jack… And you're still recovering from that. Please don't ask me to save you again…"

Biting his lower lip, Jack mumbled, "I just wanted her to get better- is that too much to ask?"

"No," Pitch replied, giving Jack's hand a gentle squeeze, "There's nothing wrong with that… You just want to see her healthy." Jack still didn't look at him, so Pitch squeezed his hand again. "I feel the same way about you. I just want to see you healthy and happy. But you can't make promises that you have no control over…"

"I just wanted her to get better…"

"I know, I know…" Pitch moved to the side of the table Jack was on and wrapped his arms around him. "If she gets better, then she gets better. You can't change that on your own… It's up to her… Just like it's up to you whether or not you get better too…" Jack didn't say anything as he rested his head against the older man's chest. Pitch looked down at him. "You were so happy just a few minutes ago… How have you been doing with the doses…?"

Jack sighed. "I only took about a teaspoon today…"

"Well that's good," Pitch said, ruffling his hair, "You're doing really well."

Smiling a little now, Jack asked, "Well enough to deserve a dessert for dinner?" Pitch laughed and said no dessert until he'd eaten his vegetables. Jack pouted at that. "I still get dessert though, right?"

Laughing, Pitch said, "Of course."

**Short chapter, but that's okay. There are women on TV screaming and shouting because of an alligator.**


	16. Chapter 16

**How long has it been? 32 days since I updated this story? Holy cow. More than a month. Sorry. I'm working on it. I've had a lot going on… ish… Other days I've just been lazy. Can you blame me?**

**Breathing in the Snowflakes—Chapter Sixteen**

Jack was currently sprawled out on his couch, chewing happily on his double fudge brownie sundae. Pitch sat next to him, ruffling his hair playfully. Jack had eaten his vegetables, he made a point in telling Pitch so, and thus, was proven worthy of getting a super delicious dessert.

"You should have some," Jack said, offering him a spoonful. Pitch accepted the offer, and smiled down at Jack afterwards.

"Certainly got a sweet tooth, don't you?" he asked. He made a comment about how rich the chocolate was. Jack only smiled and continued eating.

Swirling his spoon in the chocolate sauce, Jack commented, "I have to go back to work tomorrow. Painting that mural an' all…" Pitch just nodded and ruffled his bangs. Jack lifted his eyes to look up into Pitch's face. "Will you miss me while I'm gone?"

The older man smirked and placed a kiss on Jack's forehead. "I'm spoiling you rotten, but yes, I will miss you." Jack gushed and rolled over to poke at Pitch's stomach until he was lying on his back and laughing with the tickles. When he stopped Pitch got his revenge- he shoved Jack back and did the exact same thing to him, just twice as viciously. Jack was crying he was laughing so hard.

Jack smacked Pitch for doing that, calling him a jerk and pouting when he said he was sorry. "If you were sorry you'd buy me more desserts!" he whined.

"Jack Frost, if you're getting addicted to sweets-" he started. Jack laughed and pushed him playfully.

"I'm not, I'm not! Calm down you grumpy old funeral director!" he snickered. Pitch rolled his eyes at him and ruffled his hair again.

"Just get back to work and stay healthy," Pitch chastised sweetly, "No more drugs and no more sweets."

Jack whined unhappily at the last part, but Pitch tickling him again made it hard to stay mad about not being spoiled.

**Sorry it's so terribly short… I'll get back into the groove soon…**


	17. Chapter 17

**Fart…**

**Breathing In The Snowflakes—Chapter Seventeen**

Jack was back at it, painting like a crazy person. Of course, he wasn't actually crazy right now, and he wasn't high either, so he was painting like a normal person today. (Still a decided improvement.) He was actually really having fun with painting these eggs. Each one was a pale, pastel color, and for some reason those colors just put a smile on his face. Aster's niece was bouncing around the house again, which he liked, and she kept asking him when he'd get it done. He had to tell her that it would take a little while.

"I honestly never would have pegged you as the fatherly type, Aster," he said to him at one point during a break for water, "You always seemed so stuffy at work**."**

Frowning, he replied, "Well at least I know how you see me. I like to keep work and home life separate."

"Clearly," Jack whispered to himself as he went back to paint. He used to hate Aster, simply because he never let him have any fun. Or at least, he thought he hated him. Half the time he was too messed up to really take in any information. He still couldn't remember the three other times he told him about his niece.

She was sitting with him right now, actually, painting her hand bright pink to put her handprint in the bottom right corner. "Isn't it spoiling the surprise for you to see me paint every time?" he asked her, "Don't you just wanna see it when it's finished?"

"No!" she replied, "I wanna see it all come to life! Like flowers and butterflies!" Jack smiled at that and kept painting.

He absently wondered how the others were doing with their jobs. Hadn't Sandy wanted to paint with him? Or… No, Sandy had, he just couldn't do it… That's right. He remembered something.

Finishing off the first legged egg, Jack asked if it was to the adorable little girl's liking. She quickly said yes and tried to touch it. Luckily, Aster caught her and told her it was still wet. He then noticed her hand. "Let's go wash you off," he said. Looking back to Jack, he said, "If you like, you can go, Jack. I think it's fair to call it a night."

"Kay!" Jack replied. He went out and texted Pitch that he was done with work. Pitch replied that he wasn't. "Funeral home?" he asked. Pitch replied 'yup'. So, Jack headed off to see his favorite depressing man who worked with dead bodies. (He visited every day.)

Pitch was busy when he showed up, but Jack was fine with that. He just sat himself down and watched him talk to old people. He never looked as happy talking to others as he did when he was talking to Jack… Maybe he was just special. Jack smiled brightly thinking that.

Pitch walked over to the young man lounging on his couch. "Get your feet of the chair," he ordered firmly. Jack pouted in response, but did as he was told. Pitch then sat next to him. "So," he began, "How was your day?"

Jack imagined him finishing that question with "honey". They talked like an old married couple, constantly asking about each other's day, their mood, their drug use- oh wait, that wasn't normal.

Smirking, Jack replied, "Fantabulous, you?" Pitch rolled his eyes with a smile.

"I'm not sure if I liked you better when you were quiet and moody, or now, when you're weird and normal," he said. Jack pouted unhappily at that and pretended to cry. He received a rough knoogie to the head afterwards. This was nice. This felt normal.

Jack really could get used to this…


End file.
